Eromenos: The Beginning
by purefoysgirl
Summary: Cloud's childhood and how he grows up to become the man he is in my other stories. SephirothxCloud:Yaoi
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is the start of my whole series—from Understanding to The Beginning of the End to SINS, with Kadaj Grows Up and Ka-boom stuck in the middle. This is meant to establish Cloud's personality from the beginning, to better understand him as he grows up and becomes the man who kills his lover in all of his incarnations and, eventually, learns to move past it and fall in love.

* * *

Midgar.

The city spread out before his widening blue eyes, so vast it made his head hurt trying to see it all at once.

"Pretty, isn't it, country-boy?"

Cloud nodded vaguely at the man seated next to him on the train, staring in open-mouthed awe as they hurtled towards the bustling metropolis.

"So, what's a peasant kid like you gonna do in the city?" the man inquired. He'd just taken a seat next to Cloud, apparently having spent the rest of the trip somewhere in the train's bar. He smelled of cigarettes and breath-mints that did nothing to cover the stench of strong liquor.

"Leave that boy alone," a woman scolded, turning from her sleeping child to scowl in their direction. "He doesn't need any of _your_ sort dealing him trouble!"

The man shrugged, but whispered, "Hey, you need a job, kiddo, go look up the Don, you got it?'

He shoved a business card at Cloud, who stared at it blankly before putting it in his pocket and shyly saying, "Thank you."

The man ruffled his wild hair and fondly said, "Pretty kid like you could make some serious cash, no problem."

Cloud patiently bore the hair ruffling, knowing by now that people almost couldn't help themselves, but he didn't turn his attention from the window. At last, _Midgar_! He could see the ShinRa company building even from this distance, a monument to greatness, the base of Sephiroth—Cloud's hero and the reason he'd come all this way.

He thought of Tifa, his triangular little face falling into a soft frown, his eyes shadowing a little. It had been unfair of her father to accuse him of leading her astray, he knew that even though it still stung. He'd embarrassed Cloud, and even though that had happened _years_ ago, the bite of it still ached.

'_I'm stronger now_,' he thought to himself, slim fingers clutching his pack—the only belongings he had now. '_That was five years ago, I'm not a little child anymore_.'

He tried to strengthen his resolve, doing his best to look in control of himself as the train rolled into the heart of Midgar. The station was vast and confusing, echoing with announcements and the noise of thousands of people and shrieking trains. Intimidated, Cloud hugged his pack to his chest and made his way to one of the many counters.

"Ex…excuse…" he kept trying to get the worker's attention, but people kept butting in front of him, prompting him to forcefully say, "_Excuse me_!"

"You lost?" was the rather rude reply.

"Can you tell me the way to ShinRa?" Cloud asked, appalled by his outburst and blushing furiously.

"Take a bus, pal."

One thumb hitched over a fat shoulder and Cloud hesitantly did as directed, using the last of his change to pay for a ride to ShinRa Electric Headquarters.

The building was massive, thronging with people and lit up despite the fact that it was still daytime. Cloud approached it with wary awe, trying hard not to be overwhelmed but failing miserably. He didn't even know where to go to apply for SOLDIER, and got buffeted mercilessly in the main lobby while searching for some sort of direction.

"Move along, kid, this is a place of business."

A heavy leather-gloved hand fell on his shoulder and gave him a none-too-gentle shove towards the exit.

"Excuse me," Cloud said, struggling to overcome his shyness. He looked up and up at the suited man who stared coldly down at him. "I just…I mean…_I want to join SOLDIER_!"

"Sheesh, you want to take it down a notch," another man told him, straightening his tie. "The Turks recruit for SOLDIER, kid—recruits don't come to _us_."

"Are you Turks?" Cloud asked, and blushed when the first man laughed, making the boy scowl. He didn't take well to being made a fool of, Tifa's father had imprinted that negative emotion on him early in his life. "I want to join SOLDIER!"

"Take him to Tseng, Verdot can't be bothered with this nonsense," the other sighed, and the first man grunted assent.

The man took Cloud to an elevator and punched in a floor, leaning back against the wall as more people flooded in. Cloud, who disliked being touched, crowded into the corner, grimacing. He wasn't used to so many people, so many things, so much _noise_. He was abjectly grateful when the elevator chimed their floor and he could shove his way out.

"This way," the man said, and led Cloud to a reception area. "Let's have your ID."

Cloud dug out his papers and his coveted, much saved-for ID, handing them over.

"Have a seat."

The man went into the office, where a very loud, very lazy voice complained, "But I _always_ get stuck co-pilot, yo! What gives?"

"You've been here less than six months, Reno, you'll have to—"

The rest of the conversation was cut off as the door closed behind the man, only to be flung open seconds later by a thin youth in a sloppy black suit, his amazingly red hair stuck out all over his head and a shoulder-length ponytail dangling down his back. He didn't even glance at Cloud, just strode off down the hallway cursing at the top of his lungs and assaulting the secretary's behind with a well-aimed slap.

Wide-eyed, Cloud shrank back into the chair, not sure if such a place was safe or even _sane_ compared to his mountain home. He'd never seen anyone share so much as a chaste kiss, let alone go around slapping others on their backsides.

The door opened again and the man leaned out to hand Cloud his papers, saying, "Sorry, kid—too young."

Cloud paled, all of the life going out of him—all of his reason gone in one quick, simple sentence.

"But…but," he sputtered.

"You're only fourteen," the man said. "We don't take recruits until they are fifteen, legal adults."

"But…but…" he couldn't seem to say anything else, miserable tears rising in his blue eyes. He'd left home like a thief in the night, buoyed up by his firm belief that he would reach Midgar and become a SOLDIER—_this_ had never made an appearance in his plans, and if it had it would've shattered his resolve. "But I can't get home, I don't have any money…"

"Tseng?" the man questioned, looking at the stern, young figure behind the desk.

The man, Tseng, steepled his hands beneath his chin and looked thoughtfully out at Cloud, who did his best to look sharp but only managed to look pitifully young and helpless—which worked in his favor. Tseng didn't have a heart of stone, and Cloud was remarkably easy to find adorable.

"There's no age restriction for the grunts," he murmured, more to the man than to Cloud. "Take him to the MPs, I'll make a phone call."

"But…I…an _MP_?" Cloud asked, and flushed to realize how ungrateful he must sound. "I'm sorry, thank you so much, thank you!"

The man led him off, gently saying, "You can always try for SOLDIER next year, kid. The MP work ain't bad."

One step closer to his goal, Cloud smiled a little through his embarrassment and followed the man back to the elevator.


	2. Chapter 2

General Sephiroth looked over the lines of new recruits with a soft frown. SOLDIER was down this quarter, the wars had everyone defecting or refusing—it was, in his mind, pathetic.

"Sir, there's been a little problem…"

He sighed a little, leaving the puppies to their fates, and turned to see a 2nd class soldier at his elbow. Lifting one brow in inquiry, he waited for whatever news the young man had.

"2nd Class Kelley is in the hospital, sir," the youth whispered. "Angeal would like you to visit him—to make it easier…"

Sephiroth's frown deepened. He'd heard about the unfortunate 2nd Class Kelley, one of the smaller young men who never quite made it to 1st Class. Unfortunately, he was also pretty, and since there were no females allowed in SOLDIER the pretty boys tended to either get pressured into sex or simply raped—as in poor Kelley's situation. The other unfortunate thing was, with SOLDIER numbers at an all-time low, Sephiroth couldn't afford to do more than reprimand the offenders, making such instances like this more common. For whatever reason, the pups couldn't control themselves on any mission longer than a few weeks—if there were no options to be had, preying on each other became the norm.

"I'll visit him," Sephiroth murmured. "Tend to your business."

"Sir," the SOLDIER said, nodding a little and taking off.

Sephiroth glanced back at the puppies again, seeing a few which were likely to cause him similar headaches should they make it. He was damned close to simply outright refusing any boys who weren't ugly. But again, the problem at hand worked against him. They needed SOLDIERs, and _badly_.

He turned in a flare of leather and strode swiftly towards the hallways, one hand on the _Masamune_. People parted like water around the force of his presence, awed of him and not just a little scared.

Except for one.

Zack bounced down the hall towards him, a grin on his pretty face and his dark hair trying desperately to escape his head. The youth simply _exuded_ cheer and good will, rattling around the ShinRa headquarters like an unpredictable, overjoyed ping-pong ball. With questionable hair.

"Do you even _attempt_ to comb that mess, Isaac?" he asked, halting when it was apparent that _he_ was the overeager and rambunctious 2nd Class SOLDIER's target.

Zack laughed delightedly and rifled his hands in his unruly hair while rocking back on his heels, making an even worse mess of it.

"General, sir, Angeal was looking for you," Zack told him, grinning even more. He was always smiles and laughter, always doing his best to shore up the younger pups and was, probably, single-handedly responsible for keeping so many recruits happy with their jobs. And yet as pretty as he was, Zack had never been pressured or forced into any of the atrocities that the others had—because Angeal, his self-proclaimed patron, was strong enough to prevent it and frightening enough to deter others even when he wasn't around. Perhaps that was what SOLDIER needed, a _patron_ program…

"Sir?" Zack chirruped, his smile puzzled. But he didn't _stop_ smiling…

"Isaac, are you very close with your mentor?" Sephiroth suddenly asked, making the youth's mako-blue eyes widen at the abruptness of the question.

"Yeah, of _course_!" he crowed, folding his arms behind his head and tilting his head. "Angeal has been my friend since day one, sir! There's nothing I wouldn't do for him!"

"Hmph," the General replied. Perhaps a patron program would be the route to take. At least then the SOLDIERs would have to _really_ be willing to risk life and limb to hurt others. "And he is where, Isaac?"

"Oh!" the young man said, startled to realize he hadn't mentioned it. He straightened and spun in place, laughing with an overabundance of spirits that Sephiroth, by now, had gotten used to. "Just here, come on, sir! Follow me!"

Sighing a little, Sephiroth strode smoothly after the erratic, excited movements of Angeal's puppy, wondering once again if he could give all SOLDIERs and grunts in the Army Zack's level of protection.


	3. Chapter 3

Cloud adjusted quickly to life in the city, though being trained as an MP wasn't what he'd first had in mind. He'd had no idea that there might be restrictions on who could apply for SOLDIER, and chafed for a year to pass that he might be able to join.

It wasn't easy work by any means. He'd had to go through Basic Training like any other military branch, and it had been tough work for someone his size—but his sturdy physique and his mountainous origins enabled him to do as well as other boys much larger than him. He caught a lot of flak for being so small, and the other boys always picked on him, but getting into fights all of the time helped him learn how to defend himself, and before long the bullying was simply over-exuberant teasing.

He was stuck in the barracks—60 man bays with bunked beds and communal showers with a chow hall attached. He would only stay there through his Advanced Training and then he would be moved in with the regular MP battalion, which would be tomorrow evening as he'd finished his classes.

"Hey, wake up, moony! We have a range tomorrow, you're gonna fall asleep shooting if you don't move out to bed."

Cloud sleepily nodded his head at Dai, his Wutain bunkmate and probably his only actual _friend_. They were in the chow hall rather late, hitting up midnight chow after their guardshift. But a late shift still didn't excuse them from the range tomorrow, and Cloud was falling asleep in his plate while Dai had already finished.

"Come on," Dai said, standing and hauling Cloud to his feet.

"Hey, Dai," Cloud murmured, following the larger boy out. "Do you think we'll see the General at all?"

"Doubt it," the other boy replied, his dark eyes dancing. "He doesn't have much to do with the regular army, Strife—especially the grunts."

Cloud sighed, dejected. He'd been in the metropolis for over five months, but he'd still not seen his idol, General Sephiroth. He was the reason Cloud had come, after all.

"Shift it, private! I'm not going to explain you shooting for crap tomorrow!" Dai teased, shoving Cloud in front of him down the narrow hall to their bay. He was Cloud's squad leader and self-appointed guardian—it was Dai who stepped in when the playful teasing took a serious turn and more boys piled onto Cloud than he could fight off fairly.

Yawning, Cloud went to his locker and stripped in the darkness, pulling on his pajamas. All of his stuff was packed for his move, but he didn't want to think about another change so soon. He'd only _just_ gotten used to this amount of people, only _just_ gotten used to living with this many guys—he wasn't sure if he would adjust so easily to the two-man rooms the privates got. That, and he wouldn't bunk with Dai anymore, who was already a PFC.

"Think I'll be getting promoted soon?" Cloud idly asked, climbing into bed and watching the springs above him bow as Dai clambered into the bunk above him.

"You've been in about five months, right?" Dai asked, though he knew very well. As Cloud's squad leader it was his _job_ to know. "Automatic promotions are usually at six months, Cloud—but the trainers might waive you, you never know."

"I sure hope so," the boy sighed, nestling warmly into his covers and easily drifting off.

The range the next day went well and they got back in time to have a quick ceremony for the graduating class—forty out of the sixty had made it, and several of them got their promotions, including Cloud. He couldn't have been more happy, unless of course someone introduced him to Sephiroth or let him into SOLDIER.

He moved across the base that was housed on the ShinRa Electric Company grounds and checked into his new room which, surprisingly, was a single with a shared bathroom. It didn't take him long to unpack, he had very little and had neither the time nor the money to go explore or buy things. Luckily, his military issue covered everything he needed for day to day life, and he figured he could wait awhile anyway.

He'd only just settled in for the night to watch some video feeds when the intercom system buzzed. It took him a moment to puzzle out how it worked, but he finally answered with a hesitant, "Yes?"

"Private Cloud Strife?"

"Speaking," he said, swallowing hard.

"Your unit has been called for mobilization, you'll be leaving with your platoon at sunup tomorrow—two duffel limit, pack all of your gear," the voice said.

"Th…thank you," Cloud managed, his trembling hand falling from the button. Nearly panicking, he grabbed his keys and ran up the stairs to where Dai was bunked. Luckily, he caught the older boy before he left for an evening out, his huge blue eyes and flushed face conveying his agitation before he even spoke.

"I know, they just called me, too," Dai said, lifting a hand to forestall Cloud's stilted explanations and questions. "I called the Platoon Sergeant and he said it's a mission to Wutai."

"Wutai?" Cloud breathlessly echoed, going limp against the wall. Wutai was _hell_. He'd never heard of ShinRa MPs going there, and so few people actually _returned_ from that place…Would he die before he even made it into SOLDIER?

"There is a perk," Dai said, giving him a teasing smile.

Cloud gave him a skeptical look.

"We're reporting directly to General Sephiroth."

It wasn't anatomically possible for Cloud's huge, round eyes to get any larger, but they still did so, matched only by how large his grin was. To say he was excited was an understatement, he wriggled like a puppy, making Dai laugh and fondly ruffle his wild blond hair.

"Get some sleep, Strife," he told the littler boy. "We've got an early start tomorrow."

"Sephiroth," Cloud breathed, and made his way back to his room as if sleepwalking, his eyes distant and dreamy, his little heart pounding with excitement. "_Sephiroth_!"


	4. Chapter 4

Cloud jostled for his place in his squad, shoving his way between two much larger boys as they all scrambled to fall-in. They were finally in Wutai, and every last one of them was a bundle of nerves and excitement. So far it wasn't much, but even the trees looked somehow different, and the air was thicker, cooler, yet the sun was so much brighter than anything they had ever seen in Midgar.

"Alright, troops, lock it up," Sergeant Horde snapped, allowing for the abundance of spirits. He waited until they had gone to silent parade rest before calling for them to fall-in and receive the report.

Cloud waited impatiently for the accountability formation to be over so that he could take a look around. They'd been hustled straight off of the helicopter onto troop transports and then into muster, seeing very little of anything along the way.

Finally, _finally_, it was over and they were allowed to fall-out.

"Hey, Strife, these SOLDIERs are gonna chew you up, kid!"

"Aw, lookit the little girl, she's gonna _cry_…"

Cloud scowled, clenching his fists. Though it was just teasing, it was mean-spirited and he'd taken it for months already. His slim, small body drew comments like a magnet because he was tiny, only five foot one, and still in that stage of adolescence where his slim little throat seemed too small to support his head and his little limbs too frail to do much of anything. Combining his size with the delicacy of his face was a recipe for torment. Though Cloud didn't realize it, he was beautiful—skin smooth and pale with a soft blush on his round little cheeks. His face was triangular, cat-like, his blue eyes huge, liquid, and round against his white skin. He got teased constantly for having a mouth like a girl, pink and full and set in a soft, unhappy frown that almost looked like a pout. He was, in fact—and was often teased with—the prettiest boy in the brigade.

Not exactly what a fourteen year old boy wants to hear.

"Whassa matter, Strife, you worried? Gimme a kiss, pretty thing…"

"Get off me!" Cloud snapped, shoving the bigger boy away to jeers and grins, knowing it was all in good fun but disconcerted anyway. Touching people made him nervous, and he certainly didn't like other people touching him.

The boy laughed and shoved back and a brawl broke out, something Cloud handled with aplomb. His natural hardiness made him a natural fighter as well, and he easily bore the bigger boy to the ground in a scrap. Though little, Cloud was not without his cockiness, and shouted with the best of them during the fight.

Three more boys joined the fray and Cloud did his best, holding on for longer than they'd anticipated before Dai stepped in and called it to a halt, dragging flushed, sweaty boys out of the pile and flinging them apart.

Cloud panted, grinning, blue eyes sparkling with vigor. When Dai held out his hand Cloud easily took it, letting the bigger boy help him to his feet.

"Four on one? Nice odds," he said, giving them all a withering look.

"Just good fun," the instigator said, and slapped Cloud on the back hard enough to stagger him. "Good fight, pretty boy."

The massed group of their platoon headed towards the tent that would house them for the duration of their deployment, Cloud and Dai trailing.

"Still bugging you, Strife?" he asked, playfully ruffling Cloud's wild hair until it stood on end. Cloud took this indignity with a smile, stumbling back like a playful puppy when Dai gave him a shove. "Come on, I hear there's some big to-do going on. Something about personal guards for some of the 1st Classes."

"Personal guards?" Cloud questioned, and suddenly got the queer feeling that he was being watched rather intently. Startled, he glanced around but saw no one around them but the SOLDIERs 3rd Class doing practice drills, none of whom were looking his way. There were countless tents, though, and Cloud tried to pin down the direction this piercing inquiry was coming from.

"You okay, kiddo? You look like a chocobo just walked over your grave," Dai said, nudging him.

"Fine," Cloud murmured, and hurried inside in the wake of the larger boy.

The MP platoon was already rowdily unpacking, hollering at one another and playing keep-away from the smaller boys and such. Cloud moved around Sergeant Horde's field-desk to his cot and opened his duffel, looking for his personal-hygiene kit.

The sudden hush that fell over the tent was eerie, and Cloud nervously, slowly straightened.

He very nearly passed out when he saw who was standing in the doorway of the tent, a huge shadow backlit by sunlight like some towering, beautiful angel. His long, angular face was smooth and amused, his thin, mobile lips curved into a smirk. Every single MP in the tent jumped when that low, purring voice said, "As you were."

Cloud held his breath when _the _General Sephiroth strode in, that leather coat flapping around his calves, his movements lithe and graceful, the elegant _Masamune_ sheathed at his back. He had to duck his head to clear the entrance, his silver hair spilling over his shoulder like a waterfall. Cloud saw a flash of jade green, feline eyes and dropped his gaze to the toes of his boots, gasping softly and heart thudding.

"General, sir!" the sergeant said, looking sharp.

"Sergeant," Sephiroth said, gesturing him over. "I would like a few of your MPs to accompany me this tour. Pick two you would consider for SOLDIER—this will give them a taste of what it's like."

He spoke lowly but there wasn't a private one who didn't hear him with straining ears, each on trembling alert, trying their best not to listen while listening avidly.

The sergeant gave them all a thoughtful look and turned back to him to ask, "How soon do you want them, sir?"

"By the end of the week," Sephiroth answered, "Sooner if manageable."

"I'll have them at your tent bright and early tomorrow," the sergeant said, nodding a little as if coming to a decision.

"Very well," Sephiroth said, and again Cloud felt that heavy, piercing gaze on him that he'd felt outside. Was it the General, then? Was he looking?

The sergeant began to talk about how honored he was to have his platoon chosen to come to Wutai, going on and on while Sephiroth nodded absently.

Unable to resist that intense feeling of being watched, Cloud lifted his head, curious.

Sephiroth was staring straight at him over the sergeant's shoulder, his pale eyes glittering with mild curiosity. When Cloud lifted his head the man's thin, feline mouth parted a little, as if something about Cloud had surprised him. Those thick, heavy lashes lowered slightly, hiding half of those glowing jade eyes, so pale they were almost colorless.

"Wouldn't you agree, General, sir?"

Sephiroth nodded absently, and quickly excused himself, his eyes holding Cloud's with strange, predatory interest. Like a wraith he was gone as if he'd never been, flipping about in a spill of silver hair, flapping leather, and shining steel.

There wasn't an MP in the place that didn't feel as if they'd just had a visit from God.

Cloud shivered with delayed reaction to having finally seen his idol in the flesh. Sephiroth wasn't like anyone Cloud had ever seen—he was perfectly flawless, his skin the strange grayish white of corpses, as pale as Cloud's own but in a subtly different way. Cloud had never seen anything like him, and collapsed on his cot with a sigh, reviewing every second of the General's visit and committing it to memory.

His day couldn't have been any more perfect.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning Cloud was roused before dawn, Sergeant Horde personally shaking him awake.

Bleary, Cloud sat up, rubbing at his face. Dai was already awake and dressing, oddly enough.

"Get up, Strife, you're going with Dai to the General," the sergeant said, stopping Cloud's heart in an instant.

"Really?" he blurted, shivering with excitement. "Are you _serious_?"

"Of course I am, Strife," the sergeant said, his voice severe but his smile kind. "Look, I want you to understand that things here aren't as they seem. Keep your guard up, Strife, and stay close to the General."

"Sergeant?" Cloud questioned, trying to keep up.

"Strife, I'm giving you the best advice I can," the sergeant sadly said. "Now get up and get going, you leave in ten."

Cloud scrambled out of his sleeping bag and hurriedly dressed, yanking his uniform on and bundling up his things. He folded and strapped his cot, shoved his sleeping bag into his ruck and tightened all of it down to sit next to his duffel.

"Let's go, boys," Sergeant Horde said, and gestured them to follow.

They walked in his footsteps in the predawn blackness, no lights giving away the FOBs position to the enemy.

Sephiroth's tent was the same as the others, but there were subtle signs that it was his—the earth before the door wasn't churned to muddy mess by thousands of passing feet, and there were no sentries.

Sergeant Horde scratched at the door and the General barked, "Enter!"

"General, sir, the MP escort you requested," the sergeant said, hurrying inside with the boys in tow.

Sephiroth looked surprised, obviously having almost forgotten his request. He was sitting at his field desk with only lamp-light, bare-chested in the early hour, his long legs elegantly crossed at the ankles beneath the table.He stood and slung his coat around his shoulders, idly fastening it closed as he turned to speak to the sergeant and see his new little partners in crime.

"I hope they work well for you, sir," the sergeant began, gesturing at both of the slender young creatures. "They're good boys, both—PFC Dai and PV2 Strife, sir."

Sephiroth frowned a little, his eyes lighting on Cloud again, making the boy swallow hard. But his gaze lingered only a moment before moving on to Dai, though his eyelid twitched once in response to Cloud's presence.

They stood at nervous attention, eyes wild, though Cloud's were enormous in comparison. He was a fetching little creature, nervous as he was, and his nervousness and fear seemed to intrigue the great General.

Sephiroth put the pair and ease and stepped away, nodding for the sergeant to follow him. They moved far enough to give an illusion of privacy to their discussion and Sephiroth gave the sergeant an inquiring look.

"I'm no fool, sir," the other said, his tone frank and honest. "My superiors assumed that something like this would happen after SOLDIER 2nd Class Kelley's…_situation_. Dai is a squad leader, he's a good, strong boy and he'll take care of Strife."

"Sergeant, precisely how old _is_ private Strife?" Sephiroth smoothly asked, his jade eyes glowing in the gloom of the pre-dawn tent, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "He's no bigger than a ten year old."

Cloud blushed beet red, hearing it, and didn't respond to Dai's playful poke in his ribs. It was humiliating to have the man he idolized speak of him in such a way, with such…_disappointment_.

"He's small, sir, yes, but he's fourteen," the sergeant said, and looked unhappily at the small, nervous boy. "I have a son very much like him…"

He sighed, and looked up at the General, all business again.

"Sir, the safest place for a boy like Strife is with you or one of your COs," he flatly said. "He's just too small to defend himself against trained SOLDIERs."

Sephiroth frowned, clearly not liking the situation, but he nodded a little in agreement and the two men moved back to the nervous privates.

"Very well, Privates Dai and Strife, you'll be sticking close to myself and SOLDIER 1st Class Hewley," Sephiroth told them. "Get your cots and move your things into the corner—where we go, you go."

"Sir!" they said in unison, snapping smartly to attention and falling out to do as instructed.

"Holy shit, he's _serious_," Dai laughed, dragging Cloud against his side, one arm slung loosely over the smaller boy's shoulders. "Wow, General Sephiroth…_wow_."

"A ten year old," Cloud spat, upset, his head lowered. "I finally meet the man I want to be like when I grow up, and he says I look like a ten year old!"

"Hey, he's not being mean," Dai said, holding the tent flap aside for Cloud to go in. "He's right, Cloud—you're tiny. I think you'll get bigger someday, but you do bring some odd words to mind."

Cloud scowled at him and marched angrily to his things, slinging his ruck onto his back and hefting his duffel, the cot under one arm.

The two of them dragged their things to Sephiroth's tent and set up in the corner as instructed, their movements hushed and their eyes still wide. Neither of them could resist stealing glances at the great General Sephiroth at his desk, forehead in hand and silver hair puddling at his elbow on the table-top. Neither one of them had seen anyone as physically powerful as Sephiroth—the breadth of his shoulders and the sinewy muscles of his arms and the sight of his sculpted chest and belly before he'd put his coat on—he was possibly the closest thing to physical male perfection as either one of them would ever see, and they knew it.

Suddenly, someone else came striding in, his movements studied and methodical. He, too, was a rock of a man, broad shouldered and serious, his blue eyes glowing with mako and his handsome face set in stern lines. He wore a huge sword on his back and hardly spared the boys a glance as he entered.

"Sephiroth, _this_ is a miserable sight."

"Angeal, good to see you, too," Sephiroth said, finishing his note before looking up at the rather serious, broad-shouldered man who gave him a slight, easy smile. "What, no puppy this time?"

"Zack? In _Wutai_?" Angeal scoffed, crossing his arms over his wide chest and shaking his head. "How on earth would I keep track of him? No, I left him fuming back in Midgar, tracking an insurgent network. Plenty to keep him busy."

Sephiroth cocked his head and spent a moment admiring his long-time friend.

"I see you got your grunts," Angeal said, and lifted a hand in greeting to the two MPs, who promptly went to attention, making Angeal smile indulgently and shake his head.

"A salve to Colonel Bridges, merely," Sephiroth murmured, leaning back in his camp-chair and idly pulling a pen through his fingers. "He allowed a platoon to come on the grounds that we had personal 'guards.'"

"Guards?" Angeal laughed, amused. "Why on earth would _we_ need _guards_?"

Both Cloud and Dai shifted uncomfortably, embarrassed by this obvious disdain for their military branch. But the men made a good point, SOLDIERs no more needed guards than they needed holes in their heads—they were the elites, the best. _They_ were the guards.

Sephiroth smiled a little in answering amusement and sighed, "It's PR, I think. He wants to be able to say that his MPs guarded the great SOLDIERs 1st Class."

"Ah," Angeal said, nodding a little. He turned back to the boys and said, "Hey, go grab my duffel from the 'copter!"

The two scurried off to do as he ordered, and Sephiroth arched an eyebrow at him.

"May as well get _some_ use out of them," Angeal replied, grinning.

* * *

A/N: I don't know when/if I will be deploying, so if I get it all written and it comes up, expect a massive update.


	6. Chapter 6

Cloud nervously shifted where he stood, watching the great General Sephiroth talking with his equally stern and fearsome-looking friend Angeal. They'd moved the other man's things into the tent and set up a cot for him, lingering over the luxuriousness of it—the officers of SOLDIER got fold-out beds with thin but serviceable mattresses, an unheard of luxury for the MPs.

Meeting the General even so briefly was thrilling and terrifying for both young MPs. The General was already a legend, able to command loyalty and allegiance unheard of by anyone else in his time. His war record was phenomenal, his skills not over exaggerated. He was every inch the somewhat terrifying god of war that Cloud had seen on video feeds, and Cloud trembled in his presence.

Yes, Sephiroth was everything Cloud had imagined and more. He was commanding, imposing, incredibly reserved. He was coolly polite to the point of being glacial and looked at everyone with the same smooth, assessing stare as if he couldn't possibly fathom why on earth they'd not been drowned at birth. His face was perfection—eyes like jade, glittering with dangerous, restrained violence. Everything about him screamed of noble breeding from his patrician, sculpted features to his unusual height and the breadth of his wide shoulders. He carried himself with a General's confident grace, his movements sensual and feline, an impression only reinforced by the cat-like shape of his green eyes and the curve of his thin-lipped mouth. He was strong, powerful, saturated in ferocious sexuality that the boy had no means to process—he just knew deep in his soul that General Sephiroth was even more frightening and exciting in person, and that he couldn't wait to write home about him to his mother.

And, quite frankly, he scared Cloud to death.

With such an overbearing presence the boy couldn't imagine ever speaking or relaxing again anywhere _near_ the General, and since his Platoon Sergeant had explained what they were to do, Cloud was almost sick with nerves.

"What about these two?" Angeal suddenly asked, cocking a thumb at the two silent, anxious boys.

Sephiroth sighed and regarded them himself, making Cloud shake a little. Once more Cloud thought that the General was even more ferocious in person, overwhelmingly large with a forceful aura to him that allowed no disrespect. He was serious and in control, clearly a man of action, with a barely contained violence in his silently mocking demeanor that made Cloud feel a little weak and wobbly. He hadn't even _attempted_ to talk in the man's presence, knowing his stilted, pathetic attempts to speak would be met with an arched silver eyebrow and that smirking amusement. Cloud couldn't abide the thought of his idol finding him useless and weak…that was, if Sephiroth even deigned to notice him at all.

"Pick one," Sephiroth said, waving the whole matter away. "Keep your choice with you, when you travel back to Gao Shan just take him with you—he can go back to Midgar when you go back. I'll have the mainland cut orders for him."

Cloud tensed when the solidly muscled man strode over to them, the stern, reserved look on his chiseled face unyieldingly firm. He had his heavy arms crossed over his wide chest and gazed down at them both with piercingly blue eyes, idly moving to rub his goatee, the slashes of his brows drawing down in thought.

'_Pick me_,' Cloud desperately thought. Now that he understood exactly _what_ the two of them were expected to do, he _couldn't_ go with the General—untold weeks, maybe even _months_ at the man's side? He would probably end up murdering Cloud in frustration. '_Please pick me_!'

Angeal thoughtfully appraised the pair of them, blue eyes flicking over them in search of flaws or weaknesses.

"You there, private Dai," he said suddenly, dropping his hands to his hips in a rather intimidating way.

"Yes, sir?" Dai replied, standing at attention—_he_ was never at a loss for words, Dai was capable and strong and confident. Dai was everything that Cloud was _not_.

"I remember you sparring with one of my SOLDIER pups," Angeal remarked, smiling down at him. His smile made him seem nicer, and his eyes were warm when he said, "You _do_ remember Zack Fair?"

"Oh, yes, sir," the boy answered, daring to grin. "Zack gave me a run for my money! But he was holding back, just playing, sir."

Angeal chuckled and ruffled Dai's short hair, giving him a light cuff to stagger him.

"Try for SOLDIER, won't you?" he said, clasping Dai's shoulder warmly. "Zack could use some boys like you to train—he gets bored easily. Damned puppy."

Dai's grin widened and he nodded emphatically, saying, "I will, sir! You can count on it!"

Angeal chuckled again and said, "He's about too big for me to mentor anymore, I could use a new student."

Dai blushed, ecstatic, and nodded again, beside himself with joy.

"Well, good enough," Angeal said, and turned to ruffle Cloud's hair with a rough but warm hand, saying, "Sorry, little fellow—but Sephiroth will have an easier time keeping you safe out there."

Cloud wobbled a bit under the assault and hesitantly said, "Y...Yes, sir."

"Nah, Sephiroth," Angeal called, flopping down on his cot. "Call in the orders for private Dai."

Cloud glanced at Sephiroth and winced to find that weighing, steady gaze on him. It seemed the General was already disappointed with how things had fallen out, and Cloud wasn't much happier. Sure, he was ecstatic to be with the great General Sephiroth, but his own failings made it a hollow joy—soon enough his idol would see him for the stuttering, shy, and awkward child that he was.

"Very well," Sephiroth said, and turned back to his notes spread out over the field table. "Private Strife, you'll be going with me to recon. Make sure you have your gear."

"Y…yes, sir!" Cloud stammered, nearly shivering with sick nerves.

Angeal laughed from the cot behind him and said, "Be careful with him, will you, Sephiroth? He's liable to fall to pieces at your feet."

Sephiroth shot Angeal a wry, amused glance and Cloud turned, blushing hotly and crying, "I won't either, sir! I won't be any trouble at all!"

Appalled with himself, Cloud could only gape in horror at Angeal, knowing he had back-talked someone who outranked him in every sense of the word. But the large man only chuckled, saying, "Well, at least he has spirit enough not to be bullied."

"How fantastic," Sephiroth dryly said, bored. "Watch your mouth, Strife. We have a little thing we like to call _discipline_ in SOLDIER—I should hate to start your tour with me on a bad note."

"I'm s…sorry, sir," Cloud managed, blushing so badly that Angeal shoved himself up to ruffled Cloud's hair again.

"There, now, no harm done," Angeal said, patting his burning cheek. "This one reminds me a bit of the puppy, wouldn't you say, Sephiroth?"

"Indeed," Sephiroth said, clearly not paying attention. "Luckily for you, he's _my_ problem."

Cloud calmed himself, breathing heavily and giving Angeal a look that unwittingly conveyed miserable embarrassment.

"Come on," he said, grabbing both boys by the scruffs of their necks. "I'll show you some moves. You ever use anything other than those guns? Swords are much better…"

Grateful for escape, Cloud stumbled along with the larger man out into the sun.


	7. Chapter 7!

Angeal wore them out for sure, leaving them bruised and tired but not nervous anymore—Cloud actually envied Dai, because Angeal was like a huge, gruff teddy bear beneath all that stern seriousness.

Sephiroth stepped out and gestured to Cloud, making the boy's stomach fall to his toes again.

"Time to go, little fellow," Angeal said, and mussed Cloud's hair again, chuckling when the boy ducked from it, scowling a little.

Squaring his slender shoulders, Cloud headed into the tent and stood at attention before the General.

"At ease," Sephiroth said. "Make sure you have something to eat, Strife, we'll likely be gone until evening."

"Yes, sir," Cloud said, managing to not sound terrified. He scurried off to fetch his canteen and a field-stripped packaged meal which slid easily into one cargo pocket. He picked up his helmet but Sephiroth told him to put it away—it would only obscure his vision and get in the way.

Finally, the man was ready to leave, and exchanged low conversation with Angeal before smoothly moving outside, Cloud tagging at his heels.

"You'll have to make do," Sephiroth said, gracefully sliding onto the seat of a motorcycle. It was clearly made for one, and Cloud waited anxiously for instruction. Sephiroth held out his gloved hand and half-pulled Cloud to sit before him, perched awkwardly at the front of the narrow leather seat. That, apparently, sufficed for Sephiroth, who gunned the engine, lunging the bike forward.

Cloud was thrown back into the warm heat of him, clutching worriedly at anything to keep him anchored in place. Unfortunately, by the time he realized that he was holding tightly to Sephiroth's muscled thighs, he'd already been stuck to him like a barnacle for a good while.

The General didn't seem to notice—he watched the rough terrain ahead and guided the bike around Cloud's tense body as he maneuvered to their destination.

Cloud had never ridden on a motorcycle before. It was as thrilling as it was terrifying, because Sephiroth drove like a man possessed, paying no heed to roads or paths. The wind stung tears into Cloud's eyes but he still stared in delighted awe as the countryside slipped by, unconsciously tightening his grip on the General's heavy muscles.

They drove for some time before Cloud relaxed enough to really enjoy it. It was short-lived, however—Sephiroth took a sharp turn that tossed Cloud against one arm, bending it and yanking the front wheel suddenly.

Cloud yelped as the swerving bike came to an abrupt, screeching halt. Mortified, he righted himself on his precarious seat and shyly said, "I'm sorry, sir!"

He glanced over his shoulder to find Sephiroth watching him, his face unreadable, those cool jade eyes assessing. The man frowned a little, coming to some sort of decision.

Before Cloud could even squeak in surprise, the General's left hand slid under the boy's left arm and slammed down between his parted legs, gripping the narrow point of the leather seat hard.

Eyes huge, Cloud _did_ squeak when Sephiroth pushed forward, sandwiching Cloud between his body and his braced arm—a living seatbelt to keep his slim body in place. When the man leaned forward once again, Cloud ended up half-lying beneath his broad body, his face burning and his skin scorched beneath his clothes where Sephiroth's own body touched him. It was thrilling and utterly terrifying and hugely confusing—idol-worship mixed in with teenaged hormones and a helpless reaction to everything around him. Shy as he was, being held in such a way made Cloud want to vanish into blushes, but Sephiroth seemed not to notice him there, and since the General found nothing remotely upsetting about their situation, Cloud just nervously braced his arms against the bike and desperately tried to ignore the heat of the body folded around him.

It was then that he noticed the hum of the bike beneath him, vibrating up through his little body, thrumming against the taut muscle of his thighs and against his groin.

'_Oh no! Not _now!' he desperately begged, feeling that vibration awaken a response that happened all-too-easily these days. But his agitation only got his blood pumping, which was the wrong way to keep his body from getting hard.

He tried to scoot back, away from Sephiroth's iron-hard arm, away from the gloved wrist that pressed to his groin, but the man was wedged tightly to him and when Cloud only managed to push back against the warm crush of flesh behind him, Sephiroth shortly told him to stop squirming, apparently oblivious to Cloud's predicament.

Wishing embarrassment was a fatal affliction, Cloud bit his lip and dropped his head in shame as his body picked the perfect time to bring up a raging hard-on. His flesh stiffened unbelievably behind the loose fabric of his uniform, thrusting up to press flat against the heat of Sephiroth's wrist and forearm. Shivering, Cloud knew the unthinkable was going to happen.

Between the pressure of the General's arm and the vibration from the bike, he was _so_ going to cum.

Sephiroth shifted behind him, still not realizing. He scooted his hips forward a bit, cramming Cloud's stiff flesh against his arm.

The boy shuddered helplessly and bit his lip, clutching the bike hard and trying not to react as his throbbing erection pulsed ribbons of cum against his belly, spurting with force enough to escape the waistband of his belted pants and wet his shirt as well.

Whimpering a little at the shocking relief of it, at the piercing pleasure of it, Cloud trembled and pressed hard, briefly, to that corded arm, an uncontrollable reaction to the orgasm that left him weak and sweating and horrified.

Sephiroth slowed the bike and stopped it at a sheltered ridge where they had a view but were shielded by the cliff behind them.

Cloud shook with humiliation when the General slid smoothly off of the bike and gestured for Cloud to do the same. He stood there before him with his hands awkwardly crossed over his groin, knowing the damage was obvious. He could feel Sephiroth gazing at him with that weighing assessment, standing like a lithe lion before him.

But all he asked was, "How old are you again, private Strife?"

"F…fourteen, sir," Cloud stammered, blushing so hard he was sure to pass out. He dropped his head lower in shame, but Sephiroth said nothing more except, "Untuck your shirt, it will dry soon."

"Yes, sir," Cloud breathed, and hastily untucked his shirt, feeling gummy, sticky cum cooling in the soft breeze.


	8. Chapter 8

Cloud miserably picked at his field food while Sephiroth did whatever checks he needed to of the area. He left Cloud crouched with the bike, ostensibly on guard but they both knew Sephiroth didn't need any guarding—as the General had said, it was a mere salve to Cloud's brigade commander that they were even _with_ any SOLDIERs 1st Class.

Unaware of it, Cloud was naïvely alluring, obviously blind to his own appeal and innocence. The boy had been so ashamed, his blushes and stammers only succeeding in amusing Sephiroth and pulling a predatory smirk to his lips. Standing before the General with that rather formidable wet stain on his uniform, his slender shoulders hunched and his delicate arms protectively crossed in front of him had only served to fuel his mortification.

Cloud was a creature made for being abused, it was obvious—tender and small and helpless. From the delicate lines of his swan-like throat to the faint trembling of his slender arms, all of it spoke of graceful, yielding, submission. There was no resistance that child could offer that Sephiroth couldn't overcome with ease, and the thought made Cloud blush with renewed confusion. He didn't understand the nature of what drew him so strongly to Sephiroth, only that it was mixed up with his moiled emotions and his traitorous body. He knew enough of attraction to suspect what he felt wasn't exactly _wholesome_, not something his mother would approve of…but that paled before the breathless excitement of being near that dangerous, silent man.

Deciding he'd gotten what he could from his survey, Sephiroth returned to Cloud and once more pinned him with that impersonal, rather curious jade gaze until the boy blushed again, softly stammering, "I…I was just…"

Without a word, Sephiroth got back on the bike and put his hand out to help Cloud back on. There was an awkward, embarrassed moment of Cloud trying to mount the bike without somehow touching him, but Sephiroth ended these antics by simply yanking Cloud's arm none too gently and settling the boy between his spread legs. Instead of that distracting, corded arm between his legs, Sephiroth opted to fold one arm tightly across the small boy's hips to keep him firmly in place.

Cloud squirmed a bit in a fetching, helpless way, but quickly subsided, a warm and fragile little weight pressed hard to the curve of Sephiroth's body. His wild-haired little head bounced against Sephiroth's chest as they raced back to the FOB, his hair softly tickling the bare skin of the man's chest, his painfully thin and delicate little back pressed to Sephiroth's belly.

They returned to the FOB without incident under the cover of full dark. Sephiroth told Cloud to get some sleep, and went to his field-table to scribble out some plans. War was hard work, and the Wutain guerrillas were difficult enemies, which was why the war had dragged on as long as it had.

Cloud scurried to his cot and rummaged in his duffel for clean clothes, his towel and soap. There were no showers in the FOB but Sephiroth had a make-shift shower installed in a rock-lined corner of the tent and Angeal had told both Cloud and Dai that they were free to use it as often as they wanted while the luxury lasted.

The boy hurriedly stripped down to his bare skin, a flush darkening his cheeks. But Sephiroth had paid him little mind so far, and seemed engrossed in what he was doing, and there was no reason for him to show any interest in the doings of a runt like Cloud. Feeling rather insignificant and unneeded, Cloud carried his towel and soap to the shower and let the water flow.

It was icy but refreshing and he gratefully sluiced himself down before soaping up, his slender little body paling even more beneath the cold stream of water. He hummed a little under his breath, his soft voice sweet and unbroken yet with his coming age. His slim limbs moved gracefully, supple and pretty, not gawky with adolescence. He still had the flat, trim belly and gently rounded hips of the very young before nature made changes in bodies to differentiate the sexes. It had never occurred to Cloud to consider himself pretty or comely—he had no idea that he was every inch the perfect, flawless China-doll that his platoon mates teased him about being.

He soaped his wild hair and washed his face and rinsed the rest of the soap off, shivering now as his temperature lowered. His hair hung in water-logged bows around his face, even the weight of the water unable to enforce gravity's rules upon it. When he finished and stepped out, toweling off briskly, his hair sprang up in its usual wild disarray.

Cloud wrapped his towel around his hips and gathered his things, scooting quickly across Sephiroth's field of vision with his eyes lowered until he made it to his cot. But when he glanced up he once more found the General looking at him in that unsettling way, as if he were some new species of animal that no one had ever seen before. Cloud dared to hold those burning eyes for a moment and felt himself flush again, his round cheeks tinting rosy red, becomingly coloring his triangular, cat-like little face.

"Sir?" he asked, daring to speak, unsure of this strange gaze.

Sephiroth blinked once, slowly, lashes any woman would envy brushing his pale cheeks. His eyes opened immediately, still fixed on Cloud, who had begun to squirm. He felt suddenly, achingly vulnerable in just his towel, and longed to dress, wishing Sephiroth would look away so that he could do so.

Sephiroth whispered something then that Cloud only half caught, but it sounded frighteningly like, "_Such a pretty boy_…"

And for some reason, Cloud didn't mind.


	9. Chapter 9!

A/N: Okay, I know it seems cruel, this relationship Sephiroth has with Cloud, but I'm trying to convey just _how_ Cloud became the man he did—the way that beast was born inside him and his terrible struggle with just interacting with other people and dealing with his own emotions. In my opinion, only a terribly controlling person behaving in much the same way as a heartless god to a young boy could make Cloud the way he turned out.

* * *

Days passed to weeks and more as the war dragged on. Sephiroth and Angeal parted ways, leaving the General alone more with the hesitant and edible little private, Cloud Strife—whose charm only grew with each stammer of those perfect pink lips and each soulful glance of those huge blue eyes.

They moved FOBs, Sephiroth having his own tent set up at the forward line. It was a smaller one this time, made for two people, and barely fit both them. Though the weeks had been heavy with conflicts, Sephiroth had been too busy organizing attacks and setting up services for his SOLDIERs to do any real fighting with Cloud in tow, and before they knew it winter forced the fighting to a standstill. ShinRa, though, wouldn't pull out—maintaining a presence was key in this particular war.

The winter snows and storms had forced the Wutain guerrillas into the hills for shelter, leaving SOLDIER with nothing much to do outside of taking shelter themselves. Without electricity in most of the FOBs, the heaters wouldn't work and Cloud silently listened as Sephiroth spent a lot of time on the field-phone calling in requests to get more generators out to Wutai. He was vociferously incensed to leave his SOLDIERs in such conditions, and made no bones about it to ShinRa. Cloud thought he was a god among commanders, and wished that MPs got the same amount of caring and concern from _their_ chain of command.

Sephiroth ordered trees cut and chopped, the work serving to keep his SOLDIERs warm and provide fuel for fires as well. Fire pits were dug in the tents and rocks were shored up around them to keep the biting wind from sneaking in. But still the harsh winter weather managed to make the tents uncomfortably cold and hard to live in.

It was, in a word, _freezing_.

The General ordered everyone to sleep in piles around their fire-pits, and assured them all that leave was soon to be expected. Half of his forces were back on the mainland and the next rotation would have to wait a month for the others to return from recovery leave.

Cloud was huddled in his sleeping bag when Sephiroth hurriedly stripped and zipped himself up in his own atop his cot. The boy tried to keep his discomfort to a minimum, but even a hardy mountain-born boy such as himself could succumb to such inhospitable conditions. He'd stripped naked and put his clothes in his bag with him to keep them warm, but he generated so little body heat that his teeth chattered and his whole body shook with trying to combat the cold that seemed to seep in through the bag's zipper and round air hole.

"Cloud," the General sharply said, startling the boy. "_Cloud_."

"S…sir…" came the faint, weak reply.

"Come here," Sephiroth told him, unzipping his sleeping bag. It would be a tight fit, but the child was clearly not able to warm his own bed.

There was a long, fumbling moment while Cloud tried to use numb fingers to unzip his bag, and then he was making his shivering, sluggish way to Sephiroth's cot.

"S…sorry, sir…"

"Come on," Sephiroth told him, reaching out to snatch a tiny, delicate wrist. Cloud offered no resistance when he was yanked down into his sleeping bag. Sephiroth hissed as the little block of ice settled against him, managing to zip the bag back up over both of their heads.

Cloud shivered convulsively, pressed face to chest, his little arms tucked against Sephiroth's chest beneath his pointed little chin. His skin felt like ice and Sephiroth embraced him tightly, trying to warm him. Gradually, the boy relaxed and soon enough the sleeping bag was comfortably heated.

The loss of that icy contact made them both once more rather aware of the other's nudity. Cloud once more felt ashamed that he was so small and insignificant, not at all SOLDIER material. He had no idea that the merest glimpse of his nude, delicate body managed to distract Sephiroth—those sturdy, strong shoulders, the curve of that narrow back, those slim hips and coltish legs.

The little MP had some mass coming to him someday, in Sephiroth's opinion. Cloud had the robust build of most mountain-born people and would probably wind up with quite a bit of muscle on him as he grew up. He had the same compact, wiry body that Zack had had at his age, and SOLDIER 2nd Class Fair was a powerhouse now that he'd left his early teens behind him. Yes, this beautiful, delicate creature would only become more appealing with time, though Sephiroth felt strangely sad to think of him losing the frail daintiness of this boyish body.

Cloud, too, seemed to be more aware of the situation, and was suddenly much, much warmer. With his mako-eyes Sephiroth could see him clearly, though Cloud couldn't see anything in the darkness except the faint glow of Sephiroth's eyes. The boy's cheeks were flushed becomingly and his pulse ticked in his swan-like neck. His enormous eyes dominated his pretty china-doll face, sparkling and panicked. He was so tiny, fitted to Sephiroth as he was, his head just under the level of Sephiroth's chin, his groin pressed to the larger man's. Sephiroth had slept nude with other men before—years of war in Wutai had made that a necessity, winters were always a bitch—but having Cloud in his sleeping bag with him was like having a rather frightened, virginal _female_, and Sephiroth found himself suddenly hyper sensitive to the sweet body in his arms. Cloud even had a girl's soft, expressive face and full, loose mouth.

Cloud made a soft, distressed little mewling sound and suddenly wriggled around, facing away from Sephiroth. The slender length of his back bowed against the man's belly and chest, that round bottom curving against his groin, making the older man press closer. Cloud was becoming more and more tempting as the time dragged on, and his submissive, shy demeanor was an irresistible pull for Sephiroth.

He easily flipped that little body, rolling Cloud against his chest as he pulled the child half-atop him, the hot flesh of his sudden erection pressing against Sephiroth's lean belly. Cloud struggled in a panic, his shame driving him to try and salvage what dignity he had through escape, but Sephiroth held him fast, shifting beneath him.

Cloud made frantic, fluttering movements—like a trapped bird…or a grounded angel—eliciting a low, predatory purr from the General.

The firm press of the boy's silky-soft skin slipping over his evoked a similar reaction and Sephiroth made a low sound in his throat as his body responded. Cloud whimpered, clinging to him now while still thrashing to get away, torn between wanting more and wanting escape, so hideously confused and scared by his own reactions that he didn't have the faintest idea of what to do.

Sephiroth gripped his narrow hips and held them still against his own to feel Cloud's hot little erection sliding against his. He tried to control Cloud's movements but the child was flat-out _terrified_ now, and his fear was an aphrodisiac to the man who held him. It played over his senses like a drug, and that wriggling, squirming body moved so frantically that it was all he could do to hang on to his composure.

Cloud wailed once, sharply, narrow hips driving hard against Sephiroth's body. His slim body tightened, every muscle tensing, and his fat little erection pulsed in a hard contraction, flooding Sephiroth's belly with a sudden gush of liquid heat. His delicate body clenched convulsively in a hard orgasm, his mewling, soft cries making the man beneath him lose what was left of his control where this sensual, fragile creature was concerned.

With a soft intake of breath, Sephiroth arched up hard against Cloud's slender, lean belly and came with a violent shudder of his leonine body. He gasped softly once again, rocking his hips against Cloud's, utterly startling the boy who felt it happen in something like shock. There was no way that Sephiroth actually _enjoyed_ what had just occurred, surely. Cloud was little, unfit for the likes of the great General Sephiroth…

Cloud's shivers changed to something rather more like fear, and his low, trembling voice hesitantly and urgently wailed, "_I'm so sorry_! I…I don't know what's _wrong_ with me!"

Sephiroth said nothing, sliding his hand up his belly to scoop that warm cum up. He flung his hand out of the bag and flung it away, wiping his fingers on the outside edge of the mattress.

Cloud subsided, his moiling blue eyes so sad and upset—no, _mortified_.

"Please don't think less of me, sir," Cloud whispered, his voice small, his look that of a kicked puppy. "I…I think so highly of you…"

"Clearly," Sephiroth lowly said, making those big eyes flick in the direction of his voice, still blind in the darkness. Cloud's perfect little mouth was open, pulled into a soft moue of unhappiness. He was as far as he could get away from Sephiroth in the confines of their close quarters, tense as he could be.

Sephiroth dragged that resistant, stiff , slight body tighter against his, sealing Cloud to him with the gummy remnants of his cum. So lean and child-like, all long limbs and big eyes—surely this boy could tempt priests to stray…

"S…sir," the boy breathed, nervous now and shaking harder, shuddering.

The General knew his eyes were glowing in the darkness, probably frightening for one who had only limited contact with SOLDIERs. He blinked slowly, and rolled a little, putting Cloud half beneath him. The child made a helpless, soft sound of confusion, his little hand lifting uncertainly to Sephiroth's shoulder. That fragile, enticing body half beneath Sephiroth's was delicious, Cloud's nervous distress and virginal protests only serving to make him more edible.

"Oh my—_Sir_, I…oh my _god_…" Cloud breathed, not quite able hang on to a thought. He kept trying to pull away, but didn't resist when Sephiroth kept wedging him back.

His skin was soft as a baby's, delicate and sweet and silky against Sephiroth's. The little movements he made only teased, only increased the boy's awed fear and only made the bigger man want to control him completely.

Those glowing jade eyes fluttered in the darkness, and Sephiroth touched his face, making him jump. It was his left hand, his sword hand, strong and surprisingly light against his sensitive skin. He just touched him, tracing the contour of his cheek and brushing over his soft, lush eyelashes, the arch of his pale blond brow. Cloud nearly choked, suddenly moved by something he couldn't explain but felt to the tips of his tiny toes, which were curled in reflex. He turned his head into that touch and was ashamed to feel the hot, wet trickle of a tear seep from beneath his lid.

Sephiroth caught it with his softly stroking thumb and smoothed it away.

"Do you even know what you do, little Cloud?" that low, deep, soothing voice purred, washing over his senses like silk. "Have you any idea what you _are_?"

Cloud swallowed a sob and said, "I'm just a kid, sir…I know…"

Sephiroth laughed softly, so softly he might not have laughed at all.

"No, Cloud, a creature like you is a rarity indeed," he was told.

"Sir?" Cloud hesitantly asked, feeling the strong thump of Sephiroth's heart against his pressing palm.

"Rare and…_worthy_," Sephiroth whispered, and smoothed his hand down Cloud's flank in a wake of goosebumps, the boy shivering hard. "_Innocent_…"

Cloud shivered again and nuzzled against Sephiroth's skin, sighing deeply as those sinewy, strong arms folded him tightly into protective warmth. He felt safe despite the danger he felt just beneath Sephiroth's still, calm surface. Whatever may come, for the moment he had his idol's positive attention, and with that he could do _anything_.


	10. Chapter 10!

They moved to the fighting line days later when the guerillas made a surprise attack. Sephiroth dragged little Cloud out with him, darting into the thick of the battle with _Masamune_ flashing. To his credit, Cloud did as his military training dictated and took careful, deadly shots from the cover of a boulder that Sephiroth had thrown him into.

Sephiroth moved like liquid through the clash, blood spraying in the wake of his powerful sword and its devastating arc of destruction. There were many Wutain guerillas but even alone Sephiroth could've handled them—he'd never run across a mass of warriors that he couldn't eliminate, and doubted that such a thing existed.

He and the other SOLDIERs made quick work of it, slicing and cleaving their way through the fighters until the Wutains pulled back to their hiding places. Sephiroth was tempted to follow them but his senses screamed ambush, so he ordered his SOLDIERs to rally. The Wutains were wounded, crippled, dismayed at their loss—he and his kind would retire to their tents and rest, replete with their victory.

Sephiroth turned and saw Cloud still crouched next to the boulder, his blue eyes huge in his pale, strained face. There was blood flecked on his skin, several bodies lay sprawled before him. The little MP had done his share of killing that day, and trembled now as the adrenaline dissipated.

"Return to the FOB," Sephiroth told the others, his grinning SOLDIERs who fairly _wriggled_ with their victory. "I'll have the cooks break out the beer."

They cheered at the unexpected reward, glad to have it despite that alcohol hardly touched those with such strong mako-enhancements. It was a taste of home, a taste of better things, and Sephiroth would do nothing less than buoy up their euphoria. He was a commander on the strength of his ability to garner his troops' unparalleled devotion as well as because of his phenomenal fighting skills—manipulating others was rather a gift of his, and he used it shamelessly.

He made his way to Strife, who had slumped over and vomited across the blood-splattered snow, his skin so pale it blended in, beads of sweat dampening his worried little brow.

"Private Strife," he said, standing before the boy, straddling a Wutain fighter whose head was blown clean off of his body. "Private _Strife_!"

"Sir?" he weakly asked, convulsing as he retched again. He'd never seen so much blood, had never had to look someone in the eyes as they died. The violence of Sephiroth and the other SOLDIERs actions left him as nauseated as his own had and, in some strange way, Cloud was mourning those men he'd killed.

"Stand at attention when you speak to me, private," Sephiroth coolly reminded.

The boy wobbled to his feet and stood at wavering attention, his lips pressed into a thin, tight line and his eyes watering rivulets down his face to drip from his pointed chin.

"Did you kill these men, Strife?" Sephiroth questioned, though a glance told him that.

"Y…yes, sir," he weakly said, but he didn't shiver. "I killed them, sir."

Sephiroth smiled and slowly turned around, walking away. He knew the child would follow him, there was nothing else he could do after all.

He strode into his tent with a sigh of relief from the bitter cold, glad at least that the brutal wind had stopped. The tent had finally reached a bearable temperature, managing to hold the warmth of the raging pit fire.

Cloud came in just behind him, trembling now, still weak from his violent retching. The boy stumbled to his cot in a daze, sitting on the floor beside the fire with a lost look on his face. Cloud had never had to kill anyone before, and the whole experience of his first battle was a little hard to get his mind around.

Sephiroth flicked the snow off of his coat and moved to crouch next to Cloud, gripping the boy's little chin and turning that delicate cat-face to his own. Cloud's huge blue eyes were glassy and dazed, disoriented. Tiny droplets of blood marred the pearly perfection of his smooth, flawless face. Snow was melting on the boy's light blond hair, weighing down those soft, wild spikes. His soft rosebud of a mouth was parted, loose and mobile and flushed darkly from the heat.

"Did it bother you, Cloud?" Sephiroth asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper. He kept his touch hard, grounding the boy in reality, the only tether in a world gone awry. "It's frightening, isn't it? Taking a human life. Someone is alive one second and the next…_gone_. All because _you_ made it happen."

Cloud shook in his grip, tears welling up to spill over his lush lashes and down his softly rounded cheeks, dripped from the tip of his kittenish nose.

"Do you know what that _is_, Cloud?" he whispered, leaning close to fill the child's vision with his hypnotic green eyes. "That is _power_, Cloud. Power in its purest, finest form."

Those huge eyes blinked, spilling a flood of tears down his face.

"They…they would kill you…if they could," the boy softly said, his voice breaking on a sob. "I couldn't…I couldn't…I couldn't let them…"

"Kill _me_?" Sephiroth chuckled, smoothing those tears away with his thumb, the leather sliding over soft skin—the glove not as soft or silky as Cloud's sweet hide. "_No one_ can kill me…"

The boy swallowed hard, soft mouth working, utter awe suffusing his fine features.

"You feel too much," Sephiroth observed, letting his gaze flick to that moist mouth. "Everything touches you, Cloud. I won't have it, understand? You'll kill, and you'll do it for me, and you'll do it every time because I will it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Cloud whispered, a prayer to a heartless god.

"I have no mercy, Cloud," Sephiroth told him, catching and holding those blue eyes until they dilated, entranced by his own. "I have no mercy for _anyone_, and I will have no mercy with you. Don't expect such things as kindness from me."

"I…I understand, sir," Cloud managed, and shivered more from the soft, unaffected tone of Sephiroth's low voice than anything.

Sephiroth bent his head and pressed his cold, cruel mouth to Cloud's own soft, young one—velvety smoothness, and startled hesitance. He gripped the boy's chin tightly and traced those softly parted silken lips with his warm, wet tongue, tilting his head to allow himself easier access to that moist little mouth. Cloud hardly breathed, trapped as he was and afraid. He'd never been kissed before and it showed in the animal-like way he froze. Sephiroth slid his tongue into Cloud's mouth, teasing his tongue to hesitant life. The man flushed with warmth at that soft, tentative kiss, and pulled Cloud's sweet lower lip into his mouth, sucking on the plump flesh before he bit down, leaving a bloody wound that would scar.

Cloud gasped in pain and pulled back, hands lifting suddenly to push at Sephiroth's chest, trying to escape that hard mouth and those sharp, piercing teeth.

Sephiroth sucked that blood away and deepened the kiss again, feeling Cloud's bewildered, helpless response. The older man was an old hand at love and knew how to make the boy respond, even against his will. After a heated, bloody moment, Sephiroth released that parted, wounded mouth and gazed down at Cloud with satisfaction etched on his gorgeous feline face.

Cloud looked even more out of sorts than he had before, his tiny face imprinted with mingled shock, horror, and desire, his lower lip puffy and dribbling blood from a wound that would scar.

"Don't think I won't hurt you, Cloud," he whispered, snaking his tongue out to catch that little rivulet of blood, feeling Cloud jump in response. Such tender little shivers, such touching innocence, such absolute and child-like _need_ to be told what was real and true.

His pink kitten-tongue hesitantly touched the punctures on his lip, huge, solemn eyes slowly seeping fresh tears. When Sephiroth leaned towards him again he tensed…but he didn't pull away.

It was a heated, gentle kiss this time, one that turned Cloud into a little ember of heat before him. His round cheeks flushed, his eyes grew glassy and sleepy, his soft mouth working with Sephiroth's as he got the kiss he'd earned.

"Everything has a price, Cloud," Sephiroth whispered into his mouth, tasting and taking, his grip tightening on the boy's chin. "Pain is just a means to pleasure. Do you understand?"

Such deep eyes, so blue and large and swimming with moiling emotion. Such a feast for the senses, his little Cloud.

"Yes, Sir," the boy breathed, breath whispering over Sephiroth's hand. He turned his little head suddenly and kissed that hand, eyes sweeping closed. The warmth of it radiated out from the press of his lips, a wash of heat that actually caught Sephiroth by surprise and gave him the victorious feeling that there was more to this boy than there was to his usual lovers—Cloud was crafted for such as this, yielding, graceful submission.

"Good," Sephiroth whispered, taking a moment to gloat over his victory. Surely such a creature was meant for kings? For _gods_? Achingly innocent and ripe for corruption—Sephiroth certainly wouldn't deny the gift that had fallen into his lap and shivered in his bed. Though it bothered him slightly that he'd never wanted anyone else as strongly as he wanted Cloud, he was sure that the eventual consummation of his toying would lead to the usual boredom and eventual distaste. It had always happened before. This boy should be no different, and if he was…well, Sephiroth would enjoy him while the attraction lasted.

Cloud, it seemed, was not wholly unaffected by Sephiroth's kiss. He sat stiffly with his legs pulled under him, his little body straining beneath his uniform.

Sephiroth snatched him up, making him gasp in a startled, utterly fetching way, and yanked his belt off, pulling his loosened pants down to see Cloud's fat little erection lying so full on his white belly. The boy twisted and mewled helplessly in shame, trying to cover himself, but Sephiroth held him easily across his bent knees and stroked a gloved hand down one smooth, slim side.

"Stop squirming," he shortly said, his grip moving to Cloud's soft, distraught hair and gripping tight, holding his little head back to bare the length of his throat. The boy went limp in his lap, tears rolling from his eyes, pulse pounding.

What a beauty this boy was. Sephiroth traced the faint outline of muscle beneath white, delicate skin, pushed his shirt up to brush his fingers across tiny, pert, pink nipples. Cloud's body clenched when he did so, that hardness bouncing up only to slap back down against his stomach. Sephiroth rolled one in his fingers and Cloud moaned. He pinched and the boy gasped, cock bouncing again, a shudder wracking his slender frame. He trailed his hand down the boy's flank, skin tightening beneath his touch, that fat member twitching as he neared. But he only curved his fingers to cup Cloud's thigh, warm muscle playing beneath his hand. He slid his hand up until he almost brushed the full little sac of his balls, delighting in the boy's frightened, eager whimpers, purring softly to him. He stroked every inch of exposed skin from his chest to the tops of his thighs, carefully avoiding Cloud's leaking cock and tight balls. And the whole while the child moaned and shivered, helpless in his grasp, little hands over his eyes and body trying its best to hold still.

Finally, _finally_, the boy whispered, "Oh _please_…Sir, please…don't keep…please, sir, I'm…"

Sephiroth lowered Cloud to his knees and pulled that slim body into the hollow of his own, tilting both of them forward until Cloud's eager little erection swung free, a glittering, pearly line of precum spilling from its swollen tip to thread its way to the ground. He pulled those hips back into his, pressing Cloud's round, muscled bottom to his groin and the hard heat there. He stroked that smooth, lean belly with both hands, brushing up to roughly caress those nipples before sweeping down to touch the delicate, fluttering muscles of his lower belly. Cloud whimpered and moved abortively, searching for friction. Sephiroth finally gripped his little hip bones, curling his fingers into the flesh on either side of his fat little phallus, and began slowly massaging, purring into Cloud's ear, "Cum for me."

Cloud moaned, jumping at the order and the contact, his cock bouncing in an arc. No one had _ever_ touched him in such a way—no one had willingly laid hands on him, had ever reached out to him, had ever tried to inspire the smallest amount of pleasure in his young body. The sensations were overwhelming and Cloud reacted instinctively.

Sephiroth slid one hand up and pinched one little nipple hard, making Cloud sob softly and press back against him.

"You don't even need me to touch you, Cloud," he softly told him. "Just my voice should be enough. Cum for me, Cloud, show me how much you need me…"

He abused those tiny nipples and flattened his other hand just above the hard rear of Cloud's cock, on those tender, narrow muscles of his loins. He pressed down hard, lifting Cloud's erection with his force, and snaked his tongue into the boy's shell-like ear.

Cloud convulsed in his embrace, sobbing in mingled pain and relief as the powerful orgasm ripped through him. His hips thrust wildly into the air in search of friction as his bouncing, twitching cock spurted thick ropes of cum into the fire. His body was taut as a wire in Sephiroth's embrace, shuddering and shivering while Sephiroth continued to massage his belly and suck on his ear, now gently soothing that abused nipple with soft touches.

Cloud's voice broke on a sob, deep, wracking tears as he shot the last of his load and fell boneless against Sephiroth's arms, still shuddering as the last vestiges of his climax shocked through his system.

The general gathered the boy up, tears and all, and cradled him to his chest. He kissed Cloud, kissed him until he stopped weeping for whatever he felt he'd lost just now. Kissed him until the boy understood what heady desire _really_ meant. Sephiroth knew it had felt good to him, the electric pleasure of it had been hard for Cloud to hide—he also knew that to bring Cloud in such a way was as unbelievably, powerfully pleasurable as it was painful, and mingling the two was his purpose. In all, he'd just forced Cloud into a wholly surrendering orgasm and the boy was lost, confused, and just a little afraid.

He put Cloud on his cot and undressed him like the boy was some breathing, perfect doll—his little China-doll, all flawless beauty and huge eyes. When _he_ undressed the boy went utterly still, mouth open in shock and blue eyes on his groin where he was hard still. Sephiroth had been known to…_unnerve_ some in his time, but he would have no hesitation from Cloud. He moved to stand before the boy's dazed, terrified face and gently stroked his wild blond hair.

With a smirk and a gentle tug, he whispered, "Open your mouth."


	11. Chapter 11!

Sephiroth gazed down at huge blue eyes in a China-doll's face so smooth and perfect it could only belong to an angel, a perfect pair of rosebud lips parting, wet little tongue snaking out in uncertainty that was as charming as it was arousing.

Once again, Cloud surprised him—instead of last second balking, the boy lifted those large, liquid blue eyes and softly asked in his sweet, husky voice, "Like this?"

That soft little mouth hesitantly enveloped him, stretching wide, the tiniest touch of the tip of that tongue darting out in a little kitten lick as wet heat wrapped around him.

His breath came out in a hiss and he gently encouraged, "Yes, like this, Cloud…"

Tiny, pale hands moved to hold him, one wrapping carefully above the other down the length of his swollen cock, the touch so light and cautious that Sephiroth's blood boiled for harder stimulus. But this, too, was sweet torture, and he wove his fingers in Cloud's wild, soft hair, his left hand stroking Cloud's round little cheek as the boy intently suckled just his head.

Cloud's blue eyes narrowed in concentration, focusing on the thick, heavy meat in his mouth, lapping at the salty-bitter fluid that wept from the little slit he teased with his tongue. Sephiroth urged his hands to stroke and he gently did so, twisting them slightly with each downward movement to rub against the heavy vein along the underside. The General started breathing heavy, the hand in Cloud's hair gripping tighter, the other falling to cup his throat and grip the underneath of his jaw, forcing his mouth wider with a firm, hard squeeze.

Cloud choked a little as more of that hot flesh forced its way into his mouth, bumping the back of his throat. He mewled, suddenly frightened, but Sephiroth merely continued. The man's low, whispering moans of pleasure sent shockwaves through Cloud's system, and he struggled valiantly to swallow with every plunge of Sephiroth's cock. He managed it, and the General gasped, gripping Cloud's head hard, no pretense of caution now—his long, sculpted face was tight with pleasure, his jade eyes burning down and locked on Cloud's own face, a rosy tinge on his high cheekbones.

Cloud tried his best to match the rhythm of those thrusting hips, swallowing frantically, his own muted, muffled cries music to the General's ears. Tears welled from his eyes and stained his cheeks from the gag-reflex, only adding to the man's pleasure.

Seeing Cloud so vulnerable, his innocence hopelessly marred, his beautiful China-doll face marked with tears and that desperate desire to please, those huge eyes round and sad and needy—it all combined and triggered an explosive climax.

He shoved himself into the boy's mouth, ignoring his frantic, desperate wriggles, and groaned lowly as he came in that soft, sweet mouth, holding Cloud's head tightly to keep him from escaping. He emptied himself, thrusting slowly, shuddering as it faded.

Cloud sniffled and blinked, eyes red, but kept sucking and swallowing like a good little boy until Sephiroth grew flaccid and soft in his mouth.

The man withdrew, sighing a little and stroking his hand through Cloud's abused hair.

The boy gazed up at him with soft, yielding eyes, utterly entrancing with his huge, tear-reddened eyes and his flushed cheeks, his swollen rosebud mouth wet and marred with bruises.

Sephiroth was finished playing honorable knight—Angeal could keep it. Cloud was like a mouth-watering candy unwrapped and ready, requiring only a mouth to appreciate it. So Sephiroth would devour him, every bit. That Cloud was clearly a creature made for love was apparent from the daintiness of his frame to the delicacy of his features—had he grown up in a city like Midgar then he most certainly would never have made it all the way to fourteen without being touched. Sephiroth was perversely glad that Cloud had been raised in the country somewhere, it had kept him innocent in so many ways…

"Hush," he said, moving his hand from the boy's jaw to his cheek, smoothing away the last traces of tears. "I scare you?"

"Yes, sir," was the husky reply.

"Does that make it _better_, Cloud?" he asked, his voice low and purring. "Does that make…_this_ even better?"

"I don't know, sir," Cloud said, looking up at him in confusion and the beginnings of fear, always nervous that he would give the wrong answer, always so desperate to please. "I don't know anything about it…"

Sephiroth smiled at him, that cold and rather cruel smile Cloud had gotten to know well over the weeks. It was a smile that made Cloud squirm a little, desperately thinking he'd somehow crossed the large General. It was a smile that was predatory and cunning and no little amused.

It was the most beautiful thing Cloud had ever seen in his short life, and he trembled at its meaning.

"Such a pretty boy," the man sighed, and gave him a lingering caress that sent shivers down his bowed spine and lifted goosebumps on his skin. "Get some sleep, private Strife."

Cloud swallowed hard, that salty thickness still clinging to the inside of his mouth, his huge eyes following Sephiroth's naked body and swaying hair as he slipped into his own sleeping bag and closed it up, closed Cloud _out_. Whimpering a little at the subtle rejection, the boy curled into a ball in his own sleeping bag, shivering and wondering just what exactly he'd _done_. It had felt amazing, all of it—better than anything he'd ever felt in his young life.

Cloud had so recently been just a child tucked away in the country, climbing trees and doing chores and hiring out to farms to earn spending money, playing with hounds and fishing, leading a somewhat solitary existence. He'd never had an opportunity to really think about intimacy beyond what farm life had shown him—the most basic of urges to create a life. He had a crush on Tifa and always had since he was old enough to meet her, but there was something so vibrantly outgoing about her that it made Cloud shy and unsure, certain that he could never live up to what she would require. He'd never considered her in a sexual light, and now he wondered why. He'd certainly responded to Sephiroth's abrupt advances, and he couldn't blame it all on idol-worship—Cloud had wanted what happened, too, if only to be closer to the man he so adored. Despite what had happened between them, the General was an enigmatic stranger still, and Cloud doubted that he would ever be allowed closer than he already was.

But did he want to be? He'd never thought of himself as liking men, and he'd been attracted to his fair share of lovely women since he'd been in Midgar, though his shyness had prevented him from acting on his impulses.

Cloud shuddered again, slowly warming up the inside of the sleeping bag. His softened member throbbed a little still, irritated by the abuse. Cloud hadn't dreamed that such a thing existed, that such powerful sensation could be had from denial. Thinking of it made him twitch and he whimpered lowly, aggravated by his easily aroused body and the hormones that were battering him daily.

He tried to think of what he'd heard of Sephiroth's lovers, but it was a confusing mish-mash of stories. The General clearly slept with people, rumors abounded about _that_—but the vast majority of his lovers never came forward for fear of losing him or the possibility of his return. A few women and a few men had claimed to be his lovers, but mostly they were ignored as opportunists who were lying and the scientist Hojo was always the first to step forward and discredit them, claiming to have had Sephiroth in isolation and tests at the purported time. Still, it was a good indication that Sephiroth spread his affection equally among the sexes.

'_Am _I _like that_?' Cloud wondered, trying to ignore his demanding erection. '_Will I like men and women both_?'

He shivered, confused by it all, and tried vainly to go to sleep with that hot, pulsing piece of flesh pressing insistently at his belly.


	12. Chapter 12

Angeal and Dai returned a few days later to join up with the group before they departed for another location. Cloud was relieved to see his friend in such good spirits, and yet it bothered him to realize that Angeal had not treated Dai as Cloud himself had been treated.

In whispers, Dai explained what Angeal had told him: that the MPs were, essentially, brought in as meat for the SOLDIERs because General Sephiroth was sick and tired of them preying on each other when there were no women to be had.

Cloud understood at once, a sickening start making his stomach drop. No wonder his sergeant had placed him with Sephiroth himself, he'd always considered Cloud more needy of protection despite the boy's hardy fighting skills—still, from the stories Dai told him, the other MPs weren't fairing so well, and a few had put up fights that ended badly. _That_ had only resulted in General Sephiroth ordering them to submit and ending the whole thing, something Cloud had had no idea of, isolated as he was in the General's tent.

"But, he's keeping _you_ safe, isn't he?" Dai asked, and smiled at Cloud's mute nod. "Not all of the SOLDIERs are bad, Cloud—don't get disillusioned, a lot of them are kind and treat them like…well…like _girlfriends_, I guess. They're just men in a war, Cloud, and that is always hard."

Cloud nodded again, eyes wide and surreptitiously finding Sephiroth's form in the gloom of the transport.

Was _that_ all it was? Sephiroth didn't really seem to instigate things. Cloud had an ugly perception of himself as a burden, something merely tolerated, a runt that the General responded to because it was the only way to manage Cloud.

The boy's round cheeks flushed with embarrassment when he thought of the things he'd done, the things he now thought that he'd forced upon the frighteningly reserved General. He curled into a protective hunch, clutching his rifle to his chest and huddling a little in his unstable seat.

"Cloud, you alright?" Dai asked, but didn't wait for an answer when Angeal called him over to recall some tale to the General.

Cloud watched him with a strange, despairing jealousy. Angeal _liked_ Dai, he ruffled his hair and treated him like a playful, eager little puppy worthy of affection and his time.

Angeal didn't think of Dai as a burden, a thing to be carted from place to place because there was no choice in the matter. Angeal also didn't have Dai's hormones to contend with, didn't have Dai's size to deal with.

Cloud let his eyes flick up to where Angeal and Dai were entertaining Sephiroth, feeling rather lost to see Dai laughing and bringing a slight, tight smile to the General's mouth.

Cloud had been with the stoic man for quite some time, and yet he was still just another stranger, something Sephiroth had no interest in whatsoever.

Sephiroth looked suddenly in Cloud's direction, those almost blind-light eyes somehow locking onto his own blue ones, even in the gloom.

There was nothing in those eyes that spoke of warmth or anything near what Angeal shared with Dai. Those eyes were cold and cruel and secretive, gazing out from a thick fringe of lashes any woman would murder for. He had told Cloud not to expect kindness, that he didn't deserve it, and Cloud lowered his own eyes in shame to know just what he _did_ deserve—this silent contempt for his frailty, his immaturity. He was just fooling himself to think that he would ever be a SOLDIER like Sephiroth. The sudden and jolting loss of his dreams was bitter medicine to the boy, settling into his stomach like acid where it burned and boiled.

The transport bounced, jostling him, making him clench his teeth against sudden sickness. His head started pounding and a cold sweat broke out on his skin as he reacted to his realizations. The transport hit another rut and Cloud scrambled for the back of the transport, throwing back the canvas to vomit over the tailgate onto the snowy slush below.

"Cloud, are you alright?" Dai asked, concerned, hurrying to his side.

"What's the matter, pup?" Angeal asked, calling from the depths of the truck.

Dai touched his skin and hissed a little, saying, "He's cold as can be! Cloud, are you—"

"He's fine," Sephiroth's cool voice cut in, silky smooth and sharp as the _Masamune_. "_Leave him_."

"Sir?" Dai asked, bewildered.

"Sephiroth, surely the boy—"

"He's weak, let him be," Sephiroth said, sounding bored, his words boring into Cloud's soul and his temper, cutting away things in their wake, leaving wounds that would scar.

The boy heaved over the tailgate, wretched, the cold wind cooling his fevered brow and blowing his wild hair. He stared down at the ugly, passing road, Sephiroth's words repeating themselves over and over in his head, mingling with the voice of Tifa's father, with the voices of all those cruel, uncaring children he'd grown up with.

"Strife, when we reach the FOB, you'll be cleaning out the transport," Sephiroth informed him, and that was the end of it.


	13. Chapter 13

It was late before Cloud finished cleaning out the transport while the sniggering infantrymen merely watched him, gloating that he had somehow fallen afoul of their General. Like all of the other Army grunts, they _loathed_ the MPs and liked any excuse to give them hell.

And Cloud _did_ make a rather tempting target.

He, of course, ended up in a fight, and knocked three cold and bloodied two more before Sephiroth's sharp voice brought it to a halt with a simple, soft, "Private Strife, are you quite finished?"

Cloud popped up to attention with the others, all of them flushing furiously and ashamed to have been so caught out.

Sephiroth merely stood in the open doorway of his tent, the flap held with one stiff arm, the wind blowing that sheet of silver hair around him. He looked like a _god_ to them, a halo of lamplight surrounding him, the moonlight glinting off of his pauldrons and eerie green eyes.

"Well?" he mildly asked, and Cloud stiffly moved away from the scuffle and past him into the tent, hearing the flap close with a snap that made him jump a little.

He waited to be berated for fighting, but Sephiroth retuned to his desk and whatever he'd been doing on his computer, taking no notice of him.

Frustrated and angry and still hurt from earlier, Cloud angrily stripped off his sweated-stained clothes and used the shower set up in the corner, furiously scrubbing his skin until he turned pink in the rather cold water. He dried off and went to his sleeping bag, rolling into a naked, angry ball of sick nerves and hurt, on the verge of tears and not even understanding _why_.

He had just started to hit that hazy point of almost-sleep when Sephiroth spoke, startling him. Bleary, he poked his head out of the sleeping bag and peered in the direction of the desk, startled to find Sephiroth standing right next to his cot.

"Sir?" he asked, rubbing at his eyes.

"I said you should thank private Dai for setting your things up for you, Strife," he repeated, staring down at Cloud's exposed face. He was soft with sleep and utterly edible, his little cheeks softly flushed and his big blue eyes glassy.

"I will, Sir, thank you," he murmured, blinking slowly in a way that would some day become his trademark, a look that would make him irresistible when time put mass and maturity on his delicate little frame.

Sephiroth touched his cheek with a gloved hand, his look unfathomable to the boy.

"I forget," the man softly said, brushing the back of his curved fingers over Cloud's cheek.

"Sir?"

"How young you are," Sephiroth said, and smiled softly at him. It wasn't the tight, forced smile he'd given Dai—it was a true smile, stiff with lack of use.

Cloud subsided unhappily, lowering his eyes. He turned away from that hand, from that smile, and pulled back into the shell of his sleeping bag, rolling to face away from Sephiroth, face burning with embarrassment. Just that soft touch and he was undone, ready to throw himself at Sephiroth's booted feet and beg. He tucked his head into his folded arms and breathed deeply, slowly, trying to control himself and the threatening tears.

Cloud had to remind himself that the General didn't even register his existence—Cloud was an object he was forced to keep from harm's way, like a transport or his computer. Just a thing with even less use than those other things. What had Cloud done, after all? Shot a few Wutain guerillas? Sephiroth could've easily handled those men himself, Cloud had merely been a distracting target.

"Oh-_ho_," Sephiroth laughed, his low voice purring. "Such _temper_, Cloud."

The boy ignored that baiting tone, but froze when Sephiroth murmured, "You won't make it as a SOLDIER with a hide _that_ thin."

Angry now, Cloud snapped, "I won't be a SOLDIER anyway, Sir! Not being so _weak_."

There was silence. Maybe he was shocked that Cloud spoke back, maybe he was merely considering what Cloud had said.

"Good," he finally said. "You consider your flaws—now you know what to improve."

Cloud went utterly still, sudden hope fluttering in his heart.

"You'll make an excellent SOLDIER, Cloud," Sephiroth said. "At least you don't require the amount of babysitting as your little squad leader, Dai. Luckily, Angeal lives for such things."

Cloud's eyes widened, sudden warmth flooding him. Tentatively, he poked his head out of his sleeping bag again and looked up at Sephiroth, trembling uncertainty on his little cat-face.

"Really, Sir?" he whispered.

Sephiroth chuckled a little and cupped his pointed chin, tipping Cloud's head back and saying, "Thicker skin, Strife—it will serve you well."

He let go of Cloud's chin and moved to his own cot, stripping with lithe, efficient movements and snuffing out the light. After a moment of rustling in the darkness, Cloud suddenly felt those strong fingers on his sleeping bag zipper and it was peeled from him, Sephiroth merely silently untucking him.

Cloud didn't so much as squeak when he was pulled out of his sleeping bag and up against the broad expanse of the General's chest. Cradled like a child, he was carried to the man's cot and gently deposited.

Sephiroth slipped into the sleeping bag next to him, moving him over and zipping it closed.

Cloud trembled, not knowing what to make of it, his vulnerable and easily-swayed little heart thudding away in his chest. With uncertainty that drew Sephiroth like a siren song, the boy cautiously fit himself to the man's lean body and trembled sweetly when he was embraced.


	14. Chapter 14!

Cloud didn't dare breathe or move or even blink in the darkness once he felt Sephiroth's corded arms close around him. He feared putting the man in a situation that would force him into something _unpleasant_ for him. He didn't understand why Sephiroth had tucked him into his own sleeping bag—their tent was hooked to a generator and had heat enough to be comfortable.

The boy shivered once, convulsively, a mixture of his confusion and the touch of Sephiroth's smooth skin on his own. Every inch was silk, smooth and hairless and flawless, stretched taut over tight muscle and heat. It made Cloud a little woozy, being pressed to all that perfection.

Sephiroth said nothing, merely cupped Cloud's soft cheek in the darkness with one hand and pressed on the full, round muscle of his backside with the other.

Cloud gasped softly, back arching a little, mouth opening in a perfect opportunity for Sephiroth to bury his tongue in it. The child's squirming only served to rile him, every brush of his pearlescent hide against the General's awakening a throbbing response.

"Oh! N…_no_, Sir," Cloud tried, desperate to escape another embarrassing moment where his body responded against his will and left him bereft and burning. Even though he could feel the searing heat of the General's erection rising against his thighs, Cloud knew it was just an automatic reaction—so he pushed ineffectually at that wide, deep chest with both little hands and tried to wriggle away.

Sephiroth ignored his soft protests, knowing that Cloud would never defy him for very long—it wasn't the boy's nature to cause discord, to disagree. Cloud was one of those sweet, precious people who would much rather agree to _anything_ than cause a confrontation.

"Don't," the boy mewled piteously, warming against him, the hot little thrust of his immature sex pushing up against his belly. "_Please_ don't…"

Sephiroth slid his fingers into Cloud's wet mouth and, after a moment's hesitation, Cloud sucked on them, his warm tongue teasing over them and a soft, almost silent purr rumbling from his strong chest.

"Good," Sephiroth whispered, smiling in the darkness, his green eyes aglow with pleasure. "Good boy…"

Cloud whimpered and gripped his wrist while he sucked, hips arching up to rub his fat erection against Sephiroth's belly, leaving a slippery trail of precum on his skin.

Sephiroth let him suck for awhile before he softly pulled his fingers out of Cloud's wet mouth. With a look of predatory, feline anticipation, he curved his fingers down between Cloud's buttocks and gently worked them into the excruciatingly tight little hole there.

Cloud yelped and jerked against him, not expecting it, making pained, sweet noises as Sephiroth pushed his fingers deeper, deliberately not hitting that sweet spot. So tight, little Cloud, hot as a fire and constricting around his questing fingers. And yet even without hitting his sweet spot, the boy was pulsing against his stomach, clearly aroused by what was happening even if he whimpered fearfully through it.

"Sir," Cloud breathed, tiny, worried hands clutching at Sephiroth's shoulders, all frightened, delicious delicacy and grace. Those big blue eyes rounded in absolute shock, flickering with a soft glow of their own that Sephiroth nearly missed and which immediately made him wonder—MPs were Army, and Army weren't exposed to Mako.

He didn't want to prolong it anymore, the soft press of Cloud's taut little thighs against his cock a distracting, aching pleasure. He slid his fingers out of Cloud, smiling a bit at the boy's soft mewl of loss, and rolled the child beneath him.

Cloud gasped and struggled reflexively, his soft sounds and frantic movements only arousing the stoic General, who unzipped the bag halfway to let cool air spill over them and give him room to move.

He abruptly bent his head and delicately tongued one tiny, rosy little nipple.

Cloud shuddered hard beneath him, squeaking in shock and clutching the sleeping bag like grim death. His blue eyes softened, growing glassy, his plump mouth parting on a sigh as Sephiroth sucked and gently bit at the hard nub of flesh, his other hand idly tracing circles around the other.

The boy's back began to arch in a slow, unconscious rhythm that only quickened when Sephiroth switched his attention to Cloud's other tender little nipple. The child's innocent, abandoned reactions and sweet, yielding responses pushed harder and harder at Sephiroth's tight control of himself—he was not known to be a particularly _careful_ lover and had a sadistic streak in him that had made more than one potential bedmate faint dead away at his feet. He wanted Cloud badly, and he wanted Cloud _his_ way.

He sucked hard on that peaked nipple and bit down.

Cloud gasped again and one tiny hand lifted to his hair, holding tightly to the back of his skull.

He bit down harder, moaning a little in his throat when the boy winced and bucked beneath him, sobbing softly and pulling Sephiroth _closer_, _harder_ to him.

Those huge blue eyes focused sharply on his as Sephiroth released his blood-red nipple with a gentle suck. The man was faintly surprised to find a sudden _darkness_ in Cloud, his eyes a mere glowing blue ring around a well of pitch-black pupil. There was hurt on his soft little face and his voice trembled, but his it was his words which made Sephiroth shudder.

"Why did you stop?"

He reached down and cupped Cloud's taut sac, increasing the squeezing pressure until the boy writhed, sobbing, legs spreading wide and hips lifting to offer more and more.

"Does that make it better, Cloud?" he whispered, breath hitching unevenly in his throat. "The pain?"

"Yes," the boy moaned, his thick little cock pulsing up in a sudden leap, his cheeks burning with shame.

Sephiroth shuddered again, pulling those parted thighs together a little. He pressed forward, the hot, twitching meat of his cock sliding up over Cloud's own, balls pressed to balls. He wedged those thighs closed around his thick sex, hunkered on his knees with Cloud's round bottom in his lap, and held the boy's slim legs against his shoulder.

Cloud's swimming, dark eyes went hazy with bliss when Sephiroth began to push between his slippery, slender thighs, his heavy cock rubbing against Cloud's and dribbling pearly precum to ease his way.

"Oh my god," the boy whimpered, back arching, pleasure singing through his senses. He groped one little hand down his belly and let his fingers linger there, brushing the sensitive head of Sephiroth's cock each time he thrust, fingers growing sticky and slick, nerves jumping when the older man groaned softly with each touch.

Sephiroth was burning up against him, his body putting off unbelievable waves of heat, those incredibly strong arms holding him fast—one around his tightly closed legs, the other clenched on his boney little hip. The man made soft, low sounds of enjoyment, those jade eyes aglow and fixed on Cloud's own face, his hips thrusting hard and fast, their skin slapping wetly.

Cloud's tiny toes curled and it hit him with sudden, startling force. His eyes flew open wide, his back arching hard as that sweet, steady friction erupted into an explosive orgasm. His slender body writhed wildly, the muscles of his belly cramping hard, gasping cries tearing their way out between his clenched teeth as hot cum spurted up his lean stomach.

He sobbed as the man hit a fevered pitch, grunting a little with effort, that silver hair falling like silk to tease Cloud's sensitive legs and taut belly. And still it went on, sustained by the friction, an orgasm that fed on itself and kept him twisting violently in an abortive attempt to make it stop.

Sephiroth breathed a soft curse and moved his hand from Cloud's hip to his mouth, wedging the soft webbing between thumb and forefinger between Cloud's clenched teeth, effectively muffling his loud cries.

Cloud opened his sharp teeth long enough to bite down, teeth sinking into that tender flesh hard enough to draw blood, a wolfish snarl edging its way up from his chest and echoing in those widely dilated, darkened eyes.

The pain made Sephiroth gasp and his long back arched, driving his thick cock hard against Cloud's body. He pulsed roughly, letting go of Cloud's taut legs to slam his hand down, pressing his throbbing erection hard against Cloud's own wet, softening little penis and slick, trembling belly. With a low, harsh snarl he bowed over Cloud—a rain of silver hair falling over their feverish bodies—and snapped taut in a vicious climax that sent thick, steaming ropes of pearly cum spewing from his madly contracting cock. His guttural, growling groans made Cloud purr, tongue lashing the bloodied flesh still clenched between his teeth, some bestial part of him satiated by the letting of blood and the marking by Sephiroth's seed.

The tension slowly drained out of the man's big, muscled body and he sighed a little, purring softly to Cloud and working his hand against that biting little mouth, fingers gently caressing his cheek and jaw.

Cloud responded, slowly letting up pressure and tonguing the semi-circle of punctures, as gentle now as he'd been vicious before, his eyes slowly returning to normal in the wake of his climax.

"What a beauty you are, Cloud Strife," Sephiroth breathed, sensual eyes watching that pink, lush mouth work with animalian intent on his broken skin, the stinging pain of it only a goad to his lust. "A rare treasure indeed…"

The boy breathed softly against his skin, eyes half-closing in replete lethargy, dark lashes falling over his still softly-glowing blue eyes as he nursed the wound he'd made.

Sephiroth smoothed his hand up Cloud's flat belly, slipping in the cooling cum, smoothing it over that heated, perfect white hide until it dried, tacky and flaking.

He lay down and zipped the sleeping bag back up, tucking Cloud to him so that his gummy belly pressed to the length of his lean side, his hand still cupped around that triangular cat-face while the boy fell into exhausted slumber, still sucking instinctively on Sephiroth's hand.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Sorry for the long delay! I was on my pre-deployment leave! Anyway, here's the next chapter, hope to have more up soon, we've been pretty busy!

* * *

Someone was touching Cloud's face, and that was what woke him.

Smiling a little and stretching like a lithe little cat, he turned his face into that warm, leather-clad hand and sighed.

From across the room he heard Sephiroth's low chuckle and his eyes flew open in startled panic.

"Hush," a man said, smiling down at him when he sat up, heart thudding and eyes wide. He was dressed in a similar manner to Sephiroth, only his long leather coat was red and he wore a mesh shirt beneath it. His glowing, light-blue eyes were amused and there was an absent cruelty in his beautiful face that made Cloud's stomach lurch. Those fingers lingered in his wild hair and he jerked his head away, scowling.

"Cloud, meet Genesis, SOLDIER 1st Class," Sephiroth said, lounging indolently at his desk and watching them both.

Cloud stared at him, aghast to be seen in such a state—asleep naked in the General's bed, covered in dried cum. He hugged himself reflexively, too lost to be able to react as he should.

"Your _eromenos_ is very fetching, Sephiroth," Genesis said, ruffling Cloud's wild hair again and patting his sad little face. "Ah, to make no distinction between the sexes…how liberating that must be."

Sephiroth shrugged his broad shoulders carelessly, clearly comfortable with the other man's observations.

Cloud, however, wanted to sink through the floor and never be seen or heard from again.

"Why are you _here_?" Sephiroth asked, moving to lift that long leather coat to his shoulders, long arms graceful and strong. "You had your orders."

Genesis backed a step away from Cloud but his hand absently returned to rest on the boy's head, driving Cloud nearly mad with frustration—he hated being touched by strangers and usually tolerated the irresistible ruffling of his hair but this lingering touch was testing the limits of his patience and he wasn't sure if he should pull away a second time or not.

"My orders _bored_ me," Genesis sighed, apparently oblivious to the tension in Cloud's slender body.

"How unfortunate," Sephiroth observed, and then offhandedly added, "Cloud doesn't like to be touched."

Cloud stiffened, freezing like a prey animal when Genesis looked back down at him with those softly glowing blue eyes, a cool and cruel smile curving his fine lips as he murmured, "I _know_."

"Stop."

It was one word, breathed softly and lowly in the gloom, but it had a resonant power to it that startled Cloud and seemed to anger Genesis, whose head whipped around in a spill of reddish-brown hair so that gaze could pin Sephiroth.

Sephiroth merely stayed where he was, standing with his hands at his sides and that cool, assessing gaze turned on his friend, all that silver hair spilling like spiderwebs down over his shoulders. His expression never changed but there was clear warning in his stance, and though the word had been gently said it was serious nonetheless.

Cloud hunched lower in the sleeping bag, not wanting to be caught in the backlash of potential temper, though he'd never seen Sephiroth _lose_ his temper—the man seemed eerily disconnected at times, as if unable to feel the things that others could.

"Stop," he said again, and Genesis snatched his hand back, a smug and arrogant smirk on his handsome face as he made a great show of straightening his gloves.

"Don't get touchy, he's not to _my_ taste," he murmured, leaving Cloud alone at last.

Sephiroth turned his head to follow Genesis's movement toward the tent flap.

"What are you up to, Genesis?" he asked.

The man paused on his way out, head lowering a little as the anger drained out of him.

"I couldn't possibly explain, Sephiroth," he sighed, looking back. "For the sake of friendship I came to warn you—don't come after me. I _will_ kill you."

Sephiroth laughed abruptly, a soft and almost indistinguishable sound, and shook his head, sighing, "I would never. And _not_ because you would kill me."

Genesis sighed a little and asked, "Will you tell Angeal?"

"Perhaps you should ask if I will tell Lazard," Sephiroth suggested, but Genesis only smiled.

"I trust you," was all he said before he made his way out into the pre-dawn darkness.

Cloud watched this interaction warily from his place in the sleeping bag, wondering at what he'd just seen and not sure if he should've seen it. His suspicions were confirmed when Sephiroth drew near to him and murmured down at him, "You weren't supposed to be here, Cloud. Can you keep secrets?"

Cloud just gazed up at him with those hopelessly confused blue eyes, relaxing a little when the General cupped his face with a sigh, ruefully tracing the roundness of his cheek with one thumb.

"So young," he said, and Cloud seemed an object to him then, not a person he was speaking to. "So young and so naïve—keep your secrets, Cloud Strife. It is all we are comprised of, after all."

"Sir?" Cloud asked, his voice husky, a barely perceptible waver to it.

"When it comes out, when it's made known, you know nothing of it, understand?" Sephiroth asked, and that hand was suddenly less gentle, more threatening. "You know nothing of it and neither do I, or Angeal."

"I'll do as you say, Sir," Cloud helplessly offered, not sure how to make himself clear—Sephiroth always tied him up in knots, made him feel like a stuttering, bumbling idiot when he spoke so that his shyness was only getting worse instead of better. Those huge blue eyes gazed up with raw need and fear written in their depths and he breathed, "I'll always do as you say."

Sephiroth smiled down at him, that reserved and somewhat stiff smile that made Cloud's gut clench with nervous anticipation.

"Good boy," he breathed, and leaned close to draw the boy's plump little mouth into a deep kiss.

* * *

A/N: Taken from Wikipedia, in case you all were wondering or hadn't looked it up yet on your own.

"—In the pederastic tradition of Classical Athens, the **eromenos** was an adolescent boy who was in a love relationship with an adult man, known as the erastes. In Crete the boys were known as _kleinos_ (glorious) and if they had fought in battle with their lover, as _**parastathenes**_ (one who stands beside). The ideal eromenos - as well as his erastes - was expected to be ruled by the principles of _enkrateia,_ or "self-mastery," which presumed an attitude of moderation and self-restraint in all matters."


	16. Chapter 16

Cloud gazed uncertainly at Sephiroth from beneath the spill of his lashes, hoping he was being surreptitious in his covert looks—he was silently analyzing the great General, trying to understand what it was about him that made his indifference so very painful.

It had been weeks since that night in the sleeping bag, but after Genesis's visit Sephiroth had seemed to lose all interest in him. He didn't speak to Cloud except to give him orders, he didn't touch Cloud beyond what was necessary, and he left the boy untouched.

Cloud had, at first, been understanding, but it had melted into frustration and a sick, dark anger with himself—he'd always known such would happen, that his childish ways and small, weak body would eventually become a wedge that would drive Sephiroth away. After all, what did the General need with a scrawny boy who would be fifteen in a few months time when he could have anyone he wanted?

And the boy had had boundless time to mull over this issue since the General had given up the pretense of having a guard and just left Cloud back at the FOB when he went out with the other SOLDIERs.

So now Cloud looked at him, drawn to him and saddened that he could offer nothing more than a brief, substitution distraction. All of those things Sephiroth had said that had made his heart flutter had been nothing more than temporary passion talking, Cloud now knew. But though Sephiroth had done such things to him, Cloud was still just a little boy and couldn't keep his bewildered sadness hidden.

Sephiroth was bent over his desk, mulling over a map, idly pushing his silver hair over one shoulder to keep it out of the way. He didn't seem to notice that Cloud was in the room, an illusion that was shattered when he lowly, softly murmured, "What's bothering you, Private Strife?"

Cloud started, not expecting to be spoken to and so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't been aware of Sephiroth noticing him.

The General lifted his head and gazed at Cloud with those lazy, half-lidded green eyes, his expression neutral but altogether seductive.

"Well?" he asked, that low voice purring, making Cloud twitch. "You've been staring holes through me for over an hour now."

"I'm sorry, sir," Cloud murmured, genuinely contrite—he respected Sephiroth far too much to condone pestering or otherwise upsetting the man.

Sephiroth sighed a little when Cloud's head dropped, shyly shutting him out, the bewildered pain rolling off of him in waves the man could almost feel.

"It's complicated," he said, watching that little body draw in on itself. He waited for a reply but got none. "You're very young."

"I know, sir," the boy answered, once again feeling miserably incompetent, taking Sephiroth's statement as a justified complaint.

The General merely watched him.

"I'm sorry, sir," Cloud offered. Sorry for being young, sorry for being the one _not_ chosen by Angeal, sorry for saddling his idol with an unneeded burden, sorry for not measuring up or being anything that Sephiroth could ever want. What a bitter, bitter disappointment, to have felt the touch of someone he craved only to be deemed unworthy…

"_Eromenos_," Sephiroth murmured, lids lowering even further as he regarded the pale, silent boy tucked into a protective curl on his cot. "Come here, Cloud."

Those huge blue eyes lifted, filled with mingled hope and despair, glowing softly in the tent's gloom. That little kittenish face was a mask of suspicion, not daring to believe that Sephiroth would be kind after all this time, but hope was beneath the surface ready to burst out of him.

Cloud, after all, was a creature made for love.

Hesitantly, he unwound, his heart thrumming so loudly it deafened him. With cautious, slow steps he made his way to Sephiroth's side, readying himself for a scolding, for more of that calm indifference.

Instead, he fairly shook with need when Sephiroth reached out and gently touched his face.

The response was immediate and unstoppable—he shuddered once, helpless tears of need welling in his eyes, and dropped to his knees on the hard-packed floor.

"Cloud," Sephiroth said, that gloved hand tangling in his wild hair, that limitless patience evident in the soft tone of his voice. "Cloud…"

"Please tell me what I did wrong," he whispered, head bowed in shame for imagined mistakes, for anything he might've done. He hated the pleading lilt in his voice but he couldn't stop it. He needed Sephiroth's approval, craved his acceptance, wallowed in abject misery when the man ignored him.

"Why would you think you've done anything wrong?" Sephiroth inquired, just stroking his hair, gazing down at his bowed head and trembling shoulders.

"Because…because you've…" Cloud stumbled over the words, as terrible with them now as he'd ever been—perhaps even moreso since nerves had wound him tight and sick with tension. "You've _stopped_…you've just _stopped_…"

"Such a pretty boy," Sephiroth sighed, tugging on Cloud's hair until he lifted his sweet, tear-stained face. How beautiful he was to Sephiroth then, that young and innocent face marked with tears of pain for him, those huge blue eyes filled with longing and need, that moist mouth trembling and plump. Crystalline tears clung to his heavy lashes, trickled like diamonds down his round cheeks. His trembling nervousness drew the man as it always did, the instinctual response of a predator to weak, easy prey. "And so young."

Cloud blinked, lashes fluttering, snuffling a little, his slim shoulders drawing in.

"How do I explain it?" Sephiroth wondered, looking down at all that unspoiled innocence. _Conscience_ was not something he'd ever had a problem with, but there was such a touching vulnerability to this boy that he couldn't seem to help himself. He wanted to keep Cloud Strife safe, he wanted to be sure that nothing in this world would ever bar the path to this child's happiness. "You aren't safe with me, Cloud."

Cloud gazed up at him, those blue eyes subtly glowing again, _shifting_ a little so that the pupils dilated, suddenly larger.

"How do _I_ explain it?" the boy asked, suddenly, shockingly forceful. That sweet mouth set in a stubborn pout and his cat-like face tightened as he said, "I don't _want_ to be _safe_."

And before Sephiroth could even process that particular bit of information, shy and diffident little private Cloud Strife was rearing up and kissing him, slender and strong arms locking tightly around his neck while that rosebud mouth pressed clumsily and sweetly to his own.


	17. Chapter 17!

Sephiroth held him out of sheer reflex, the slender weight of Cloud's body pushing against his as that wet mouth gave him the most needy, fervent kiss of his life.

"Cloud," he murmured, pulling away a little, but the boy's pained moan of misery stopped him from doing anything else. Cloud was a child, just—it had been Sephiroth's mistake to be so bold with him, but now that the damage was done there was little reason to cause this precious and delightful creature pain. Of _certain_ types, anyway.

"Sh," he hushed, drawing that little body up between his spread thighs, holding Cloud fast against his belly and kissing him. "Hush, now."

"Please don't make me stop," the boy whimpered, looking up at him with all the soulful pleading of an abused puppy. It was a look that made Sephiroth smile ruefully and kiss him again, wondering just what he'd awoken in his fragile, delicate pet guard that would push Cloud to be so unlike himself. "Please, sir, I…I…"

Sephiroth merely looked down at him, calm and unruffled, his jade gaze placid.

Cloud suddenly lost his nerve, his usual shy reticence engulfing him in sudden horror at his own actions. Shaken by his own outrageous behavior, Cloud trembled a little, unsure of how to salvage the situation and spare Sephiroth any additional unwanted advances.

"You what?" Sephiroth asked, his voice low.

"I…I just," Cloud stammered, and dropped his head, leaning into all that warm muscle, little hands sliding of their own accord up the folds of that leather coat to clench on the General's sides. "I just want to please you, sir. That's all…"

"It's a dangerous trap, Cloud, needing to please others," Sephiroth softly told him, cupping the delicate shell of his skull to press that kittenish face to his chest. He felt Cloud breathing softly against his skin and wrapped his arms tight around that slender, light body, eyes closing a little in a moment of resigned sadness.

He would, and consequences be damned. Cloud might regret it later, but he asked for it _now_, and Sephiroth was becoming uncomfortably aware that there was very little he could deny young private Strife…Made easier by the fact that Cloud asked for so little. Just to be held, to be loved, to be acknowledged—like any other child in a strange and hostile world, he sought acceptance from someone he looked up to.

And Sephiroth understood that longing.

He tipped that little face up and kissed his soft mouth, tasting sweetness and salty tears, a mixture that was uniquely Cloud. The hesitant press of the boy's tongue slowly became bolder, mimicking Sephiroth's movements, one tiny hand moving cautiously to his silver hair and reverently stroking, the other clenching reflexively on his side.

Those hesitant touches, that naïve _need_, the untutored and innocent movements—it was a lure Sephiroth simply could not resist, coming from a long string of jaded lovers. Cloud's innocence was refreshing, his virginal, experimental actions more arousing than the cultured touches of Midgar's best whores. That each experience was new to him, that he looked at Sephiroth with innocent and hungry eyes all combined to make of him a delicious and irresistible dish to be savored.

Cloud opened to his kiss, his reactions uninhibited and rather startled. It was all still new to him, such trembling fear mingled with such pleasure. It was thrilling and terrifying and he pressed hard against Sephiroth's warm chest, the fastening of that leather coat coming undone so that the edges of it folded back.

He was lost in kissing, amazed that the General's mouth could be so soft. His skin was as smooth as Cloud's own, supple and warm. He felt the man tilt his head, moving him by the grip on his skull, and his breath left him in a startled, excited rush when Sephiroth lifted him. Cloud instinctively grasped the cold metal plates of Sephiroth's pauldrons, his slim legs folding over the man's hips.

Sephiroth broke the kiss to press his mouth to Cloud's swan-like neck, lips sucking at the pounding pulse, gloved fingers clenching in the boy's cheap uniform shirt. Cloud's hazy, bright blue eyes began that eerie glowing, and the boy arched against him, pressing the hot little length of his erection to Sephiroth's metal-clad belly.

"Cloud," he sighed, kissing him everywhere—his brows, his eyelids, his cheeks and lips, his throat, his shoulders, the inviting shells of his ears. So beautiful, little Cloud, so hesitant and unsure.

Sephiroth stood with Cloud riding his hips and carried the boy back to his own cot. He wasn't sure how far he could take this, but Cloud was simply too enticing to ignore. He put the child down on his cot and stripped, aware of Cloud's wide eyes on him, amused by the boy's blushes and helpless little gasps. Cloud was painfully shy and deliciously sheltered, a combination that made this whole experience a true test of the strength of his determination…and the strength of his feeling for Sephiroth.

The man easily stripped the wriggling, softly protesting boy, ignoring his faint pleas to put out the lights, to not undress him all the way, to let him do it himself while Sephiroth turned his back. When he finally had Cloud gorgeously nude he just paused a moment to take him in.

Such a pretty boy with those huge, liquid blue eyes and that stoic, determined look on his china-doll's face…so young yet and so ready to please. Afraid but unwilling to admit it, splayed out on his back in the most vulnerable position one could be in, his coltish legs spread and his eyes holding barely concealed panic.

It was this he drank down so greedily—fear and apprehension, the pleasure of taking something frightening and making it something _needed_, _craved_.

Cloud drew up a little, blushing furiously to be so exposed and regarded, one little hand moving protectively to shield his genitals from Sephiroth's steady, heated gaze.

"Stop," the man whispered, grasping his little wrist and pulling it sharply away. He saw the darkness flare up in Cloud's eyes when he did this, a reaction to his harshness. The child's head dropped back a little, soft mouth parting. He tightened his grip experimentally, making Cloud wince, but his little cock only twitched and he moaned softly. "What are you, Cloud Strife?"

Those eyes were nearly all pupil, soft and cloudy, all embarrassment and shame forgotten in the haze of sensuality.

"Just a boy," Cloud said, his answer broken, his pulse pounding in his beautiful throat.

"I think not," Sephiroth murmured, and released Cloud's wrist to bend over him. He slid his large hands up Cloud's alabaster thighs, pressing his thumbs into the taut muscle to either side of his groin. It made the boy's cock pulse up in a jerk, made his pretty back arch. Before Cloud could get alarmed or panic, Sephiroth enveloped that fat little penis in his hard, demanding mouth to the tune of Cloud's high, sweet cries.


	18. Chapter 18!

Cloud nearly came out of his skin when Sephiroth's hard mouth descended on his vulnerable little body. His tiny, strong hands clenched in the soft material of the General's sleeping bag, his hips arching up in startled, pleasured response. His big blue eyes rolled and he couldn't help the soft cries that came from his open mouth. He felt the man's hard hands slide up to grip his hips, clenching hard enough to bruise, that mouth engulfing him completely.

But then he started to suck.

Cloud wailed sharply, body taut with tension, desperately writhing where he lay spread out on the General's bed. The feeling was incredible, Sephiroth's tongue and teeth working in tandem on his hot, strutted little sex. The boy begged, pleading prettily, beautiful body twisting in restless need.

Sephiroth easily swallowed him down, aroused by Cloud's sweet responses and thinking to himself that his soft, shy little private would one day become a gorgeous and seductive young man. He held down Cloud's quaking hips, working his fat little phallus with his tongue. Sephiroth took his time and used all of his skill on Cloud, knowing it wasn't wasted on a creature as responsive and desperate for love as his little private.

Cloud's cries hit a desperate, keening note and his back arched hard, teeth clenching. In that final, agonizing second before he exploded into climax, Sephiroth slipped one hand from his hip to give his tight little balls a hard squeeze.

Cloud convulsed in pleasure, belly tight, body curving up in an arc of quivering muscles and electric pleasure as the pain brought him. Sephiroth greedily suckled him, drawing out that orgasm, eyes on Cloud's gorgeous face as he came so hard it seemed he would burst. The child was beautiful, his teeth clenched, his hands fisted, his pupils constricted to pinpoints so that his eyes were all glowing, vivid blue.

It broke over him with the force of a crashing wave, his taut young body flailing wildly while Sephiroth held him down. He swallowed down the copious, creamy cum and kept sucking, pleased when Cloud's cries changed tenor, becoming more pained and desperate.

"Stop!" he begged, twisting, trying to pull away, writhing because the pleasure had bled into the pain and back again, dragging him along that dangerous edge where the pleasure stopped. His thighs tightened, his heels digging in as he pushed—but he couldn't break the General's hold on him.

His teeth were bared in a snarl and his eyes dilated again, fascinating to the General, who wondered once more what this precious, delicious creature _truly_ was.

"Stop!" he cried again, but his hips lifted irresistibly under Sephiroth's mouth, thrusting hard. He was sweating now, beautifully flushed and shuddering uncontrollably. "Please stop!"

Sephiroth ignored him, satisfied only when Cloud wailed in pain and climaxed again, his spent body giving forth a tiny dribble of fluid onto the man's tongue.

He released that writhing, moaning body, merely watching as Cloud caught his breath, whimpering and shivering convulsively.

"Better," he murmured, smirking.

Those cloudy, shimmering blue eyes held his own, the blue fading as those pupils expanded. A strange smile curved his full, inviting lips, tiny pink tongue slipping out to wet his plump lower lip. For a strange, uncanny moment it seemed the boy was someone else entirely, some_thing_ else entirely—something that gazed at him with half-lidded, heated eyes and whispered, "_Is that _all?"

"Cloud?" he questioned, feeling his pulse pick up at the idea of what Cloud might be, of the _possibilities_.

The child twitched when his name was called, the fire in him dimming just a little.

Sephiroth touched his soft cheek, let his other hand slide over Cloud's slender side and warm flank. He stared into Cloud's dilated eyes, wondering at what he saw.

"Give me that darkness," he whispered, moving over that little body to kiss Cloud's wet mouth. He bit the tongue that quested in his mouth, bit and sucked away the salty blood, drawing the arc of the boy's body tightly to his own. Again, he breathed into Cloud's little ear, "_Give me that darkness_."

Cloud moaned beneath him, lost in a spill of silver hair. It was an animal sound, low and pained and needing.

"Give it to me," Sephiroth demanded.

"I don't know _how_," Cloud whimpered, clutching him like grim death, swapping so quickly between that dangerous darkness and his timid self that his little head was spinning.

Sephiroth smiled and drew back a little, staring down into blue eyes, into pupils that shifted even as he watched, changing with the turns of the boy's emotions.

"I'll show you," he murmured, his own eyes glowing softly, lids lowering to half-mast and breath quickening at the thought of what he could and would do to Cloud's small, vulnerable, and eagerly offered body.


	19. Chapter 19

Sephiroth moved to lay at Cloud's side, curving his bigger body against the child's own sweating, trembling one. The boy whimpered in embarrassment and tried to roll away but the General wasn't having it—he held Cloud in place, having more than just an inkling of what called that darkness behind Cloud's gorgeous blue eyes.

Pain. Humiliation. _Surrender_.

"Touch me," he murmured, an order to a subordinate, an uncomplicated request that asked so little yet required so much of his tender and dreadfully shy young lover. He watched Cloud's face spasm in panic, eyes rounding and a stuttering denial on his soft little lips. Sephiroth cut him off before he could begin, saying, "_Touch me_, Cloud. I'm not asking you, I am telling you."

He watched the struggle in Cloud's eyes, watched the boy as he was torn between instinctive obedience and a shyness that ran so deep it was buried in his soul.

"_Do it_," he hissed, and was rewarded with stillness, a subtle change falling over Cloud's soft baby-face, making him no less enticing, but somehow _different_. And Sephiroth wondered if he was seeing the face of the darkness he'd asked for.

Cloud's delicate head tilted, large blue eyes blinking slowly as those pupils dilated into welling blackness, the blue a mere fringe around them. There was endearing hesitance behind his movements when he reached out, and it was shocking to Sephiroth that he reached first for his face, tiny fingers brushing his cheekbone, salty little thumb running lightly over his lips.

It startled him. He'd expected anything from Cloud but this gentle, assessing touch. He'd expected the boy to reach for what he so clearly wanted, he'd expected Cloud to fall into the haze of lust the darkness seemed to herald. He hadn't expected to be handled so carefully or with such tenderness…He couldn't recall the last time anyone had touched him without wanting something—fame, a night in his bed, the bragging rights.

He snatched that little hand away, angry that he was so moved by it. He never let his lovers get to him, it simply wasn't the way things were done.

"Not like that!" he snapped, wrenching Cloud's slender arm down. "I will _not_ be touched _like that_!"

Cloud seemed relatively undisturbed by his outburst, though his eyes shifted a little, his wrist lax in Sephiroth's tight grip.

"Like what?" he softly questioned, his voice faint and sweet.

"Like you _care_," Sephiroth said, and savagely added, "I won't have it, Cloud—do you understand? As far as I'm concerned you don't _have_ feelings! You're nothing but a body, so do _not_ touch me as if you had anything in your vapid head except for sex!"

Cloud flinched, recoiling just a little, the soft arch of his brows drawing low.

"A body?" he repeated, the beginnings of hurt in his voice. "But—"

"But _nothing_," Sephiroth lowly said, his lust evaporating in the face of his anger. He flung Cloud's arm away from him and gave the boy a rough push that half knocked him from the cot. "It isn't personal, Cloud, you can't afford to think that I can feel anything for you."

Cloud made a soft, pained sound, scrambling from Sephiroth's cot and scurrying to retrieve his clothing.

"You're just a silly boy," Sephiroth said, watching him, unsure himself why he was being so cruel—perhaps because Cloud had caught him so utterly off-guard, perhaps because he felt the child needed lessons in life's harshness. Or perhaps because it was the first time in his memory that someone had touched him so sweetly, so gently, with nothing else in mind but the giving of it.

Cloud checked when he said it, a startled reaction to his words that brought tears welling in his big blue eyes and made his slim, straight little shoulders slump with shame.

"A silly boy," he echoed, hugging his clothes to his sturdy chest and shivering, squeezing his eyes shut and hanging his head. When he went to his cot his movements were slow, defeated in every sense of the word.

Sephiroth felt an uncomfortable stab of guilt, not something he was very familiar with and certainly not something he would tolerate.

"Cloud," he said, watching the child climb listlessly into his sleeping bag.

There was no response. Cloud zipped up with his back to Sephiroth, lost inside his own thoughts. When the bag began to tremble and soft, almost inaudible sobs reached his ears, Sephiroth sighed deeply and zipped up in his own sleeping bag, giving Cloud what privacy he could and still feeling that alien guilt.

'_It's for the best_,' he thought, in retrospect appalled at what he'd nearly done—it wasn't Cloud's youth or innocence that shamed him, it was that he'd somehow allowed the child to think it was acceptable to have feelings for him. He didn't feel for anyone else, he would allow no one else to feel for him.

Pushing the faint gnaw of his guilt down, Sephiroth closed his eyes and fell asleep.


	20. Chapter 20

'_You're just a silly boy…_'

Cloud grimaced, curling in on himself where he sat. The walls of the helicopter throbbed and hummed, somehow adding to the discord in his head. He was the only MP on the transport amidst a group of infantry with one SOLDIER 3rd Class in charge.

Cloud had been cast out.

He'd cried himself to sleep last night, ashamed and feeling dirty for the first time in his memory. He knew why he'd done those things with Sephiroth and what his secret heart had hoped for. He knew that deep down he'd wanted to believe that Sephiroth had returned the attention because he had a genuine fondness for Cloud. That he felt nothing whatsoever made Cloud feel sordid and used, nothing more than a carnal animal.

But he was just a body without feelings. Just a silly boy.

And morning had found him alone inside an abandoned tent with this SOLDIER 3rd Class coming to wake him, telling him he needed to pack, he was going home.

The helicopter shuddered in a crosswind and Cloud clenched his teeth, thoughts still on how betrayed he felt, his stomach reacting as usual to his stress. He managed to hold it until the bird landed in Junon, but he only just staggered down when he hit his knees and retched all over the tarmac.

"Gross," the SOLDIER said, but gamely handed him a vial, saying, "Here, drink it—you should have said you get motion sickness. I do, too, it's why I carry this stuff."

Cloud took it with a shaky hand, holding it to his lips and draining it in one go. The effect was immediate and pleasant, his roiling stomach calming instantly and a comforting warmth spreading over him.

"Th…thank you, Sir," Cloud managed, suddenly very aware that his rather halting way of speaking was back. It had gotten better for awhile, probably because Sephiroth preferred silence.

"Don't mention it, just don't yark in the truck, okay?" the SOLDIER said, grinning. "'Cause then _I'll_ throw up and we'll _both_ be shit outta luck."

Cloud gave him a hesitant, shy grin but took his offered hand, standing on shaky legs and moving slowly to the truck where the infantry had already boarded.

"Why'd you get sent back?" the SOLDIER inquired, just making conversation. "Not an emergency I hope."

"No," Cloud answered, resisting the urge to hug himself. "I just…I guess I wasn't needed anymore…"

"Hm," was the reply, the SOLDIER leaping lightly into the transport and giving Cloud a hand-up. They all settled into place as the transport jerked to a start, rumbling down the road at an alarmingly slow speed. "Any of you boys trying for SOLDIER?"

One or two raised their hands, for once the infantry was struck silent. Cloud didn't, merely tucked safely into the corner of the truck and watched in silence.

"Oh, come _on_," the SOLDIER said, laughing. "It isn't _that_ bad! Look at me, I tried last year and I'm already getting promoted to 2nd Class when we get back!"

"Congratulations, Sir," was heard all around.

"How 'bout you, kid?" Cloud was asked.

"N…no, Sir," Cloud answered, shifting uncomfortably. "I…I'm too small, sir…"

This earned him a snort of derision, and the SOLDIER said, "Don't let Fair hear you say that, he's hardly what you could term 'large.' But Zack sure is a good SOLDIER. Listen up, kid, this is one area of life where size has nothing to do with it."

The infantry boys sniggered and so did the SOLDIER, but all Cloud could muster was a faint, uncomfortable smile and a soft shake of his head.

"Suit yourself," the SOLDIER sighed, and turned to trading stories with the infantry kids.

Cloud fell asleep all slumped over on his rucksack, only waking once they finally reached Midgar. It was late, probably three in the morning and all of them were rather travel lagged.

The SOLDIER 3rd Class helped them all down, tossing them their bags and keeping up a running commentary of hilarious inanities that made the trip seem less aggravating.

Cloud got his ruck and shouldered it, hoping he hadn't misplaced his room key. As he was walking away the SOLDIER called, "Hey, blondie! You should try for SOLDIER! No kidding!"

Cloud lifted his hand in acknowledgement, a sad smile on his face, and turned to keep walking, hearing another, deeper voice from his back crow, "_Kunsel_! You're back! _Outstanding_! I got another mission and I wanted to ask you—"

"It's three in the morning, _what_ are you _doing_ out _here_?" was the response.

Cloud glanced back but in the darkness all he could see was the faint gleam of light off of SOLDIER 3rd Class Kunsel's ever-present helmet and a wild spray of dark hair bobbing wildly around as a rather short, slender, but somehow powerful-looking SOLDIER bounced around him like an excited puppy.

Sighing, Cloud trudged to his room and let himself in, tossing his rucksack negligently against the wall and slumping onto his bed. He put his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands, and just sat there in the miserable darkness, lost and wounded and utterly adrift.


	21. Chapter 21

"_Really_, Dai, I don't want to go anywhere," Cloud insisted, resisting the hand that tugged on his arm. "_Honestly_."

"No way, Strife," Dai chuckled, and managed to man-handle the smaller boy out of his barracks room. "It's your birthday, kiddo—I'm taking you downtown."

"But I don't have any money," Cloud complained, still trying to find a way out.

Dai firmly shook his head, not buying it.

"Forget it, Cloud," he said, his wide smile wicked with intentions. "You got back a little earlier than I did, but I've spent a lot more and I _still_ have tons left in the bank—you just never figured out how to work your account, dork."

Cloud couldn't really argue that point. There was very little he required to stay moderately content, and since the Army provided video feeds and meals he'd really had no need to ever look at his bank account.

"Please don't make me go…" he begged, giving Dai a miserable, pleading gaze with his big blue eyes just as large and round as he could make them—puppy eyes, his mother used to call that look.

"That look only works on moms and queers, kid," Dai informed him, and slung his arm over Cloud's straight little shoulders in a protective, companionable gesture the boy was used to. "I got some guys together and we're going to celebrate that you are officially an _adult_…well, old enough to join SOLDIER, anyway."

Cloud gave him a dubious look but didn't have the strength to resist. He disliked confrontation, and knew it would be easier to just go along with Dai's plan until the older boy realized that Cloud was simply no fun and decided to take him home.

"You really are a pitiful little guy, Cloud," Dai told him, half dragging him down to the elevators and tossing him inside. The pair of them leaned against the back wall at the floors ticked by, Dai saying with no little affection, "You're like a kicked puppy, Cloud, it's no wonder people either want to cuddle you or beat you up. Guess it just depends on the kind of person they are…"

Cloud had absolutely no idea what Dai was talking about and was more than just a bit suspicious that Dai had been drinking. He chose to take shelter in his usual shy, embarrassed silence and said nothing, waiting for the elevator to open onto the ground floor.

The boy didn't recognize any of the people that Dai led him up to, but he trusted his squad leader implicitly and ambled along in a sort of depressed daze while they led him to the trains. He still didn't like the oil and hot-metal smell of the station, nor the pressing crowds that jostled him, but it was much less intimidating than it had been when he'd first come to Midgar. As the train rattled along he thought that perhaps he would become a city person yet…maybe in seven or so years…

He looked up when Dai elbowed him, his big blue eyes widening when he saw where they were. Not only was it a bar, not only were there whores, but they were in the _slums_—the forbidden place, the out-of-bounds place for any MP not on duty and assigned there.

"Dai!" he squeaked, the beginning of a lengthy protest.

"It's _fine_," Dai assured him, cutting him off and shoving him through the door in the wake of the others. "You need to loosen up, Strife, you're never gonna get a girl if you play everything so close to the vest."

The accusation stung the boy, who hadn't considered himself in such a light. Cloud, who until very recently still thought that girls had cooties and that kissing was gross, considered this sage advice and wondered if, perhaps, he was solely responsible for his eviction from Sephiroth's presence. He took all of the blame, and gladly since it gave him something to focus on, but he'd always thought that—even though Sephiroth had sent him away—it wasn't _entirely_ his fault.

"Maybe it was," he murmured, stumbling after Dai's friends.

"What was that, Strife?" Dai questioned, cocking his head and leaning close to hear over the roar of the place.

"Nothing," Cloud hastily said, smiling a little. So many things he'd lost since he'd come to Midgar—his childhood, his innocence, his _smile_. Maybe he could gain something back in this place with his friends around him. "Thank you, Dai, for making me come out here."

"You're welcome, kid," Dai fondly said, and hustled Cloud up to the bar for his first-ever drink.

* * *

Sephiroth was not entirely happy.

That was not news in the world of the great General, who only had the faintest of grasps on the idea of happiness. He simply wasn't like anyone else, and while the idea didn't necessarily _bother_ him, he rather wished he had more in common with the ordinary herd. It was a winsome wish as he looked out across the city from his darkened apartment, the full front of which was entirely comprised of glass. Shinra might be a stingy, ugly old boar of a codger, but he knew which side his bread was buttered on and kept his best SOLDIERs in comfort and style—Sephiroth wasn't the only one with an amazing view of the city they all worked tirelessly to protect.

He thought vaguely of Genesis, for no reason that he could fathom. Perhaps the other man was thinking hard of him, it had happened that way at times between Genesis, Angeal, and himself. He thought of Genesis touching Cloud and the cruelty in his voice when he said, '_I know_.' He'd been intentionally baiting Sephiroth, but to what purpose he had no idea. It may have been to make sure he had the full measure of Sephiroth's attention for the conversation that had followed.

'_For the sake of friendship I came to warn you—don't come after me. I _will_ kill you._'

No one had heard from him since. He'd gone on with his orders—'_They _bored_ me_'—and was, presumably, still in Wutai as he was supposed to be. Presumably.

His thoughts then turned to Cloud.

He still felt uncomfortably guilty when he thought of how that tiny body had drawn in on itself, how the child had wept at the unnecessary scolding. It had been an impulsive decision on Sephiroth's part to send him back, but he didn't regret it. Things had taken a turn for the worse in Wutai just after Cloud had gone, and many of his MP platoon would not be returning, though none of them knew it yet.

He touched the cool glass with bare fingers, his gloves lying discarded on the table behind him. He touched the glass and wondered why he still worried about Cloud Strife. In his experience, once he'd had done with a lover he forgot about them…well, _mostly_. He recalled enough to _avoid_ them, or icily disabuse them of romantic notions. He knew that Cloud would never seek him out, not the shy and eager-to-please little private he'd taken such advantage of. No, Cloud would keep his secrets, he would keep his _shame_—Sephiroth didn't kid himself on that count, Cloud _would_ be ashamed now, he was still a child and had done things even grown men would balk at.

It strangely disappointed him to think that he would never see Cloud Strife again. For all that he was a child, he was a remarkably intriguing person and would only grow to be moreso as he got older. Would he ever lose the shyness that so marked him? Would he _truly_ grow into the promise of those sturdy shoulders and strong, curved back? What kind of man would such a boy become with that strange, seductive darkness lingering behind those guileless blue eyes?

It wasn't a decision he made on any sort of conscious level, but Sephiroth knew deep in his gut that his business with Cloud Strife was unfinished. He wasn't sure how it would happen or when, but they would cross paths again, this he knew with certainty. Perhaps the boy would have feelings for him, yes, but so long as Sephiroth remained removed, what harm could come of it?


	22. Chapter 22

It only took three drinks for the desired effect.

Cloud was _drunk_.

He was sitting (mostly) on a barstool in a forbidden part of Midgar with his fourth drink in his hand (mostly) and he was stinking _drunk_—which was, apparently, something that amused his fellows to no end. They hooted and laughed and teased him, but it was all in good fun and Cloud basked in this unexpected and fleeting acceptance by indulging their whims and continuing to drink despite the warning bells going off in his head that this was in no way a good idea.

Small as he was, and as unused to alcohol to boot, Cloud rapidly reached that point where he most certainly would not remember what happened to him the next morning. Still, he was laughing and his heart, hurt though it may be, was lighter for it. So he couldn't stay on his barstool to save his life, at least when he fell there were others to help him gain his feet, though more than once this simple act of assistance merely resulted in _both_ of them hitting the planks on their asses. And that was OK, too, because it felt _good_ to laugh, and Cloud laughed until his belly ached with it.

So he wasn't exactly sure of what was going on when Dai shouted something about a birthday present and to sit tight at the bar.

Cloud did as he was told, oblivious to the grins of his fellow birthday celebrators, and took another unsteady, wobbling sip of his drink.

He was nearly unseated when a slim youth shoved his way up to the bar, wedging his body between Cloud's and the man sitting next to him, leaning over the bar to shout an urgent request for more whiskey.

Cloud clung to the bar and regained his equilibrium, scowling at the young man who had so rudely pushed him. There was something familiar about his red hair but the boy couldn't exactly place him, and he was still studying him with curiosity, trying to recall where he'd seen him before, when the youth turned and frowned at him.

"What're you lookin' at, weirdo?" he demanded, and his blue eyes narrowed.

Cloud hiccoughed and swayed on his stool, peering at the strange marks under the kid's eyes—crimson slashes, maybe tattoos.

"You got a problem, kid?" the young man asked, cocking his head. He was distracted by the bartender, who thumped the bar to get his attention and yelled over the noise, "Your boss called, Reno—you're cut off at two!"

"What the _fuck_?!"

"…tattoos…" Cloud reflected, and studiously lifted his cup to his lips, trying hard not to spill while his companions laughed and chatted around him.

"_Fuck him and fuck you, too_!"

The youth knocked into Cloud again while he was cursing, and Cloud faintly protested, a good measure of his drink sloshing out on the guy's dark suit.

"Hey, watch it, playpen, I'm in no mood for any shit!"

Cloud tried valiantly to keep his expression solemn, and sagely said, "Tattoos."

"What?"

"It's m'bir'day," he told the man, whose bright red hair was very nearly as unruly and desperate for escape as his own.

"Well fuck if it isn't, chief," the guy said, good humor restored. His blue eyes were bloodshot and even _Cloud_ could tell he was stinking drunk. "Tell ya what, 'birday' boy, I'll give you twenty gil if you keep the drinks coming, yo!"

Cloud swayed on his stool, blue eyes bleary. "…'Kay…"

"Good boy!" the youth crowed, and slapped him on the back hard enough to topple him from his stool.

Cloud laughed, lying flat on his back on the planks of the bar in a puddle of alcohol, his head swimming and the pain of his fall knocking distantly through the haze of inebriation. The young man's sharp, slim face gazed down at him, a wide grin showing what was probably a fortune of orthodontics at its finest.

"Yo, you are fucked _up_!"

His narrow white face swam in and out of focus and Cloud thought that was the funniest thing he'd ever seen, and he knew his laughter had an edge of desperation to it because his stupid, 'silly boy' heart was aching again, the alcohol making him maudlin.

"He has nice teeth, too," Cloud slurred, and blinked away tears because teeth were the furthest things from his mind but he wanted so _badly_ to escape that burning ache in his chest.

"Yo, man, your little friend here is out of his goddamned tree," he heard. "You better clear him outta here if he's gonna keep talking kooky shit like that, yo."

"Sorry, man, he's a good kid, just ignore him…"

"Hey, Cloud, get up, come on," he felt Dai's strong hands under his arms, lifting, hefting him to his feet. The room spun crazily and he didn't even register Dai saying, "Your present is waiting for you…"

Dai half carried him to the stairs that led above the bar, laboriously helping Cloud mount them.

"I don't feel so good," Cloud moaned, head lolling against Dai's shoulder.

"Don't worry, you'll be right as rain in a few," Dai said, and grinned at him. "I hope you're not _too_ drunk…I think they can take care of it, if it comes to that."

Cloud nodded a little, saying with serious gravity, "Tattoos…"

Dai laughed at him and said, "No, no tattoos for you, Cloud—never get inked drunk, my old man always said."

"Nice teeth," Cloud agreed, and sighed as if it were the most serious issue in the world.

Below him he heard a ruckus break out and Dai started cursing under his breath, but he deposited Cloud in a room all the same, dumping him down on a soft bed and tipping him a wink before he left, making sure to lock the door behind him.

"So you're the birthday boy…"

Cloud blinked rapidly, an upside-down face looking down at him with sparkling brown eyes and an amused smile.

"Do you have tattoos?" he politely inquired, and let his blue eyes flutter closed.


	23. Chapter 23

When Cloud woke it was to a splitting headache and his first movement made his stomach heave so violently he was afraid to try again.

Slitting his lids, he peered around at an unfamiliar room—gray, black and silver. Asture and elegantly simplistic.

He tried to remember what had happened and could vaguely recall drinking, laughing a lot, and some woman staring down at him. Past that things got more than a little hazy, but he knew with complete certainty that whatever he'd started with Sephiroth, he'd finished with some unknown whore, courtesy of Dai and his friends. There were parts of it that returned with startling clarity, enough for him to know that he'd had a good time and gotten Dai's money's worth, but the thought was little consolation in the here and now with a hangover threatening to burst his skull.

"So, you're finally awake."

Cloud felt the blood drain from his face, leaving him even more pasty pale than he usually was, a fine sheen of sweat popping out on his flawless skin. He didn't need to turn his head to know who stood in the doorway, he would know that voice, that scent, that _presence_ anywhere.

"Did you enjoy yourself, Private Strife?"

Cloud screwed his eyes shut tight, trying hard to breath through the tight constriction of his chest and the heaviness that had suddenly settled there. Through clenched teeth he managed to breathe, "Yes, sir. I did."

There was silence. He waited for that smooth, low voice to mock him, waited for the inevitable disappointment and derision—the General had rarely shown him anything but disdain interrupted by odd spurts of lust, it was all he'd ever known.

"I never thought you the type to pay for such things," the General smoothly said, and Cloud heard the faint creak of leather as the man settled in the chair next to his bed. "With your looks you should never have to…"

Cloud swallowed hard, doing his best to remain unaffected. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he whispered, "It was my birthday present, Sir—from some of the other MPs."

There was a low, mirthless chuckle at his side and the General murmured, "It would have gone better for you if they'd not gotten you alcohol poisoning beforehand. That _whore_ nearly came apart at the seams when you passed out in her bed and she couldn't wake you."

Cloud said nothing. Silence was always the better part of valor where Sephiroth was concerned.

The man heaved a sigh and softly said, "Luckily, one of the Turks started a fight in that very same bar and I was called down to deal with it as a personal favor. I arrived just in time to see your inglorious near-death."

Cloud let his pulse settle before saying, "Yes, sir."

Again, silence. Cloud's heartbeat was loud in his ears, almost deafening, but he was insanely aware of Sephiroth's own soft breathing and the intoxicating scent of his skin.

"Will you not even look at me, Cloud?"

It was said so softly and with such silky sweetness that Cloud very nearly did just that, but he restrained himself and resolutely kept his eyes closed. Sephiroth had sent him away, having gotten whatever it was that he'd wanted from Cloud in the first place, having vented his ire and made his feelings known—silly boy, emotionless body, just a _thing_. And _things_ had no value, _things_ were not cherished, _things_ were not worthy.

It was something Cloud had already knitted into the fabric of his life, a thread which continued the one first woven between Tifa and her father that distant day when she'd gone on a fool's errand and nearly died. It was a thread that would, ultimately, become the mantle of his guilt, but he did not know such things at his age. He only knew that he had been used, and badly, and feared it was only what he'd deserved.

"Will you not even say thank you? I could have called your platoon sergeant to deal with it but I chose to deal with you myself instead," the man went on, his tone hardening, frustration evident in the low, husky purr of his voice. When Cloud continued to be silent, he finally, wryly said, "Another secret between us, then, Cloud Strife. I'll keep mine gladly provided you keep _yours_—"

"I told you I would do as you say," Cloud sharply said, tears pricking his sinuses. Was there _nothing_ Sephiroth believed him capable of doing? Was he not even worth the faith it took to be sure he could keep his mouth closed?

Sephiroth finally perceived the problem, and lowly said, "I do not doubt you, Cloud. I believe you will keep your silence…"

"Please, sir, leave me alone," Cloud said, his voice wavering as he lost his battle with his tears and they began to course down his face. He lifted his trembling hands to his face and dashed at them impatiently, but they flowed like twin rivers, undammed at last. "Thank you for taking care of me and not telling my chain of command. I _will_ keep my mouth closed, I _promise_!" He laughed bitterly, the sound thick with his weeping, "As if a promise from _me_ means anything—"

Cloud cut off abruptly when Sephiroth's hand, heavy and gentle, settled on his head, fingers weaving in his wild hair. His left hand—that supple and deadly sword hand—softly cupped his face and smoothed away the tears.

"I'm _sorry_," Cloud blurted, sobbing. It was a blanket apology for the trouble he caused, for what he'd forced onto the General with his unreasonable adolescent body, for the touch that had so angered Sephiroth and resulted in Cloud's exile.

But mostly it was an apology for being what he was—a silly boy who meant nothing to anyone and less than nothing to the man who had called him such.


	24. Chapter 24

Contrary to his usual nature, Sephiroth had been concerned.

It had been no surprise when the call came last night from Tseng, ever weary of his Turk's antics. Rather than have Reno reprimanded and possibly put on restriction, the Wutain man had politely asked Sephiroth if he wouldn't go and see to the disturbance. A rather convenient side-effect of his fame was that most people were willing to do anything for him, and so he was able to keep the red-headed youth out of the clutches of the local constabulary.

He had not, however, been prepared to see _another_ familiar face in the form of Dai, Cloud's squad leader, nor had he been prepared for the frantic young lady of the night who'd come barreling down the stairs, barefoot and naked, utterly assured that the young kid she'd just serviced was nothing short of dead.

That "young kid" was Cloud. His little private, passed out dead drunk in a whore's used bed.

Dai had been beside himself, both awed and frightened of Sephiroth and desperately worried for his friend. Taking the matter in hand, Sephiroth had packed the lot of them home—Reno included—and had tended to Strife himself. The medics he'd called in had assured him that Strife was merely a lightweight and not suffering from the worst effects of alcohol poisoning, but recommended caution all the same.

And now here he was with Cloud Strife tucked neatly up in his bed, sick as a dog and smelling faintly of a woman's warm body—not exactly the circumstances he'd had in mind when he'd imagined this scenario.

But he could hardly feel any amusement at the irony of it, that _concern_ was still wrapping its cold fingers around him, moving him to comfort Cloud when the boy began to weep in earnest. He didn't need to speak aloud those damning thoughts behind his big blue eyes, Sephiroth knew the most of them—illusions, all, imagined faults and misdeeds, blame misplaced onto himself. What else would one such as Cloud do? He was, after all, a creature made to suffer, if not by another's hand then by his own.

"Hush," Sephiroth whispered, and sat beside him, one hand still tangled in Cloud's hair, the other gently smoothing those ceaseless tears.

"I'm sorry," the boy sobbed again, and it was sharp as the edge of _Masamune_, piercing Sephiroth with bitter swiftness. He understood it for what it was, and it saddened him that a child so young should be so ashamed of his own existence. What on earth had been done to Cloud to cause such damage? Surely it was not _all_ his own doing…

"Be still," Sephiroth ordered, and Cloud fell into snuffles and eventual silence, those huge, bloodshot blue eyes staring forlornly at nothing, miserable and sad. He didn't need to ask to know that Cloud felt unwell, anyone would in his position. He'd waited until the boy was awake to address it, and took the opportunity to cast a subtle heal on him.

The effect was immediate, as he knew it would be. A healthy flush replaced the stark paleness in Cloud's soft cheeks, and his sorrowful blue eyes cleared of their bloodshot veins. He didn't stop trembling, however. Sephiroth was acutely aware of it.

"Cloud…" he said, and the boy flinched, heavy lashes lowering a little. He smoothed Cloud's wild hair and gently cupped his face, unable to resist brushing his thumb over Cloud's soft, moist little mouth.

The boy's lids fluttered, tears glittering on his lashes like diamonds.

Sephiroth watched him, feeling again what had gripped him at the first—a desire to keep this child safe, to take that aching, miserable sadness and turn it to shy smiles and joy. It was impossible to not want to protect him, small and delicate and easily wounded as he was. Sephiroth reckoned that it could hardly be a failure on his part to want such, Cloud having been so formidably equipped by Nature to defeat even the hardest of hearts.

And his heart was far from hard where Cloud Strife was concerned.

"I knew I wasn't done with you," he murmured, watching pale roses bloom in Cloud's cheeks. "But I certainly didn't think I would see you again so soon…nor have you in my bed stinking of booze and bought sex."

Cloud winced, wounded by his words, softly protesting again, "I'm sorry, sir…"

"Don't be," Sephiroth shortly said, drawing back with difficulty. "Boys will be boys, after all. I was your age once, Cloud. You've done nothing that I haven't."

Cloud's beautiful, feline face tightened and he stared fixedly at his fingers laced together in his sheet-covered lap, obviously struggling with something.

"…Is that what it's like?" he softly asked, and those blue eyes lifted, though his head did not, giving him the look of a sweet, scolded puppy.

Sephiroth arched an eyebrow in question, doing his best not to be done in by a simple look from this child.

Cloud shifted uncomfortably and clarified, "Is that what it's like…with me, I mean…"

"What was it like?" he softly asked, though he could gladly live the rest of his life not knowing the details of what Cloud had done with a common trollop.

Cloud shivered a little, but it wasn't a happy look of remembrance on his face when he said, "It was…_cold_…I touched her but I didn't feel anything…because she didn't matter to me…"

Sephiroth's mouth tightened, caught off guard by Cloud's candor. It _wounded_ him, in truth, and he drew back a little.

Those blue eyes looked at him with shamed uncertainty and the boy asked again, "Was that what it was like for you with me?"

He was speechless, unable to respond. Of _course_ it hadn't been impersonal, much as he would've preferred it to be. How could anyone lay their hands on Cloud and _not_ feel the tiniest bit of _something_ for him?

"Because I understand, then, if it was," Cloud sadly said. "I understand what you mean, now, and why you said those things—"

"Be still," Sephiroth snapped, and surged to his feet, pinching the bridge of his nose as a headache threatened, Cloud watching him with mounting alarm. "Get up and get showered, you stink like a whore."

He felt rather than saw Cloud flinch, but the child silently obeyed, moving with silent grace along the periphery of his vision, wary as any prey animal well-used to the hunter's ways.

He waited until he heard the shower run before he dropped his hand, still thunderstruck by Cloud's innocent question. So eager to please, his little private, searching for some excuse for Sephiroth's harshness with him, offering him some kind of _approval_ for it. Because he _understood_.

And what Cloud understood saddened Sephiroth more than he cared to admit.


	25. Chapter 25

Cloud emerged from the shower and methodically dried off, oblivious to his opulent surroundings. The towel he used was as soft as down, a light dove-grey color that the General seemed to favor and which very nearly matched the shade of his silvery hair. Cloud bunched it against his face for a moment, inhaling with a soft sob, remembering the way it felt to have all of that soft, silky hair spilling around his body, trying to inure to himself to the pain of knowing he would never have such again. The General's stiff manner with him and the exasperated, impatient way he'd dismissed Cloud to the shower had made that abundantly clear.

'Well,' he thought, wrapping the towel around his shoulders so that it covered him like a blanket. 'At least I don't smell like a whore anymore…I wonder, did he mean her, or did he mean _me_?'

He caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror, pausing a moment to see if he somehow looked any different. He'd always avoided mirrors since he was a young child, and the aversion to his reflection had only grown with time. Still, he gave himself a cursory check, wondering that such cataclysmic events could occur inside him and not somehow show on his body.

"What's wrong with you?" he murmured, touching his reflection, irritated by the sadness he saw there. "Why don't you just go away and leave him alone? He doesn't like you, he's already said…"

The image in the mirror simply mimicked him, _mocked_ him, and he let his hand drop, feeling depressed and alone. He knew most of it was the aftermath of the alcohol he'd consumed, but a part of him wondered if it was just _life_.

A hard knock on the door startled him, Sephiroth's low, deep voice shortly asking, "Have you fallen asleep in there?"

"No, Sir," he answered, thumbing the latch on the door and opening it to see the General staring coolly down at him, arms crossed over his wide chest. The man made no move to get out of the way, leaving Cloud awkwardly waiting, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. He remembered how he'd flung himself at Sephiroth's feet mere months ago, begging for some tiny shred of attention. It should have mortified him but it only made him nostalgic, thinking of what had followed.

Sephiroth blinked, lashes fluttering, and tipped his head a little, murmuring, "Don't do it again."

Cloud started, eyes widening as if the man had read his thoughts. Blushing, he softly asked, "Do what, Sir?"

The General's pink, sensual mouth tightened in a frown but he gamely answered, "Bed a whore, Cloud—don't do it again."

It puzzled him but he didn't think to deny the demand—acquiescence was too much a part of his nature.

"I…I thought I'd done nothing that you hadn't…" he trailed off weakly when the General's cool stare turned into an angry glare.

"Don't question me," the man snapped, a faint flush on his high cheeks, as if Cloud had caught him out at some game. His hand snaked out and gripped the back of Cloud's neck tightly, pulling him none-too-gently from the bathroom and back into his bedroom. He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled Cloud's unresisting body between his spread knees, hands forcing the boy's head up to meet his gaze. "You are a child, Cloud, and a very comely one at that—do what you will with your peers but never lower yourself to that standard again, do you understand me?"

Cloud nodded even though he _didn't_ understand. Somehow, in the space of time between their conversation and Cloud emerging from the shower, Sephiroth had seemed to take sudden umbrage at Cloud's activities, though he had seemed uncaring of them earlier. It was confusing and upsetting, but Cloud could only agree. He'd not planned to ever repeat such a fiasco, but Sephiroth's stricture ensured it.

"You're far better than that," the man lowly said, shocking Cloud anew.

He blinked hard, sudden heat filling his cheeks. Embarrassed, knowing better, he protested, "No, Sir, don't say such things, _please_. You say things and I can't guard against them because I don't know how—and _you're_ the one who warned me not to think you could care for me. If you meant it then, _please_, don't give me something to mistake for caring!"

"Be still," Sephiroth told him, shaking him a little, but gently. His jade eyes, feline and sparkling and withheld, bored into Cloud's own with piercing intensity. "You'll do as your nature bids, Cloud Strife, and _I_ will do as _mine_ bids."

Confused, Cloud started to shake his head in denial, but Sephiroth pulled him close and suddenly kissed him.

And, for whatever reason, it felt like home.


	26. Chapter 26!

A/N: Thank you to all of my reviewers! Your continued interest inspires me to keep writing! I only hope that I don't disappoint in the end, because we all know that this is no happily-ever-after, don't we?

* * *

He should have struggled, he should have fought, he should have gotten angry.

Instead, he went limp against that warm, lithe body with a soft whimper, his little hands held awkwardly to his chest, fingers curled into loose fists. He'd not forgotten what touching had earned him the last time and wasn't looking to repeat his mistake. For the moment he was too caught up in the shock and aching relief of that kiss, his head tilting instinctively to offer more, his wet mouth open wide for the General's hot tongue. The man held him in a cruel, desperate grip, his hands cupping the delicate shell of Cloud's skull so hard it almost hurt him, his forearms pressing into Cloud's back to draw him closer, tighter, _nearer_.

It was almost as if Sephiroth sought to erase with force what such an embrace might mean, holding Cloud so tightly that the child could barely breathe. But who needed to breathe when there was _this_ instead—this warm heat and heady, delicious pleasure?

Sephiroth released the grip he had on Cloud's head and yanked at the towel, letting it drop from Cloud's creamy shoulders to pool between them. He wore his gloves still, and impatiently broke the kiss to pull them off, scowling, Cloud trembling with sudden nervousness.

"Sir…" he softly began, trying to gather his thoughts. He'd never longed for ease of speech more in his life than he did at that moment—to be able to simply and easily _tell_ Sephiroth all of the things clamoring in his head, all of the things terrifying him. He knew with sudden and doubtless clarity that Sephiroth did, indeed, want him. But for what reason, Cloud was still unclear. He was torn between allowing it for his own selfish reasons and stopping it because he knew with that same certainty that Sephiroth would turn him away yet again.

"Be still," Sephiroth bid him, and with this final of continuous hushings, Cloud fell quiet.

It would be worth the pain in the end just to be with his idol once more.

The General had freed his hands from the tight black leather and sank his fingers greedily into the small of Cloud's back, yanking the child tightly to him to reclaim his mouth in another hot kiss.

"Were you so eager with her, I wonder?" Sephiroth asked, his voice muffled by Cloud's mouth. "Did she find that darkness within you, Cloud?"

"No," the boy moaned, desperate to touch him, but too frightened to do so. "No and no again…Only you…only you…"

The man clutched him tighter in helpless response, making a low, deep sound of pleasure. His mouth moved to the delicate skin of Cloud's throat, teeth nipping, tongue laving, one hand wedging down below the lip of the trapped towel to cup Cloud's rounded cheek, fingers curling hard into the muscled heat of him.

Cloud whimpered, arching against him, bent nearly backwards in Sephiroth's tight embrace. He didn't clutch the man's shoulders, didn't attempt to keep his balance—where Sephiroth was concerned, there was no use trying to save himself. He had to give himself wholly over to the strong arms that held him, to the questionable mercy of the jade-eyed General.

"Do you understand, Cloud?" Sephiroth moaned, biting him hard enough to leave a bruise, deep and bright with blood.

'_Don't think I won't hurt you…_'

'_You can't afford to think that I can feel anything for you…_'

'_You're nothing but a body…_'

Oh yes.

Cloud understood.

"Yes, Sir," he breathed, closing his eyes as he felt that familiar _hunger_ take hold, his body swaying gracefully with the General's movements. "I understand."

Sephiroth cursed softly and turned, flinging Cloud onto the bed, rolling him out of the towel to sprawl on his back. He was ten times more beautiful now than he'd been in Wutai, all that white skin displayed on those black and silver bedclothes, his light blond hair falling in locks over his vivid, glowing eyes, that rosebud mouth parted softly and a faint flush on his round cheeks. Even though he'd been flung like a ragdoll he sprawled in such a graceful, unconsciously sensual way that Sephiroth was momentarily struck by it.

He'd seen felines with less grace, courtesans with less sex appeal, and all of it due to Cloud's simple and strange ignorance of his own beauty.

Sephiroth stripped his pauldrons and coat off, discarding them carelessly on the floor with his gloves. He cursed the fact that he was dressed at all, cursed the stupid meeting that had required it, cursed the buckles on his boots and the laces on his pants. But, finally, once the cursing was done, he crawled onto the bed to cover Cloud's gently trembling body, nude as the day he was born.

Cloud's body was hot to the touch, his skin dewy soft and silky beneath the hard press of his hands. He half laid atop him, dwarfing that small body in the heat of his own, as close as skin would allow. Cloud hesitantly kissed him, whimpering when Sephiroth took control of it and plunged his tongue down Cloud's throat. He was already hard, the hot thrust of him pressing to Cloud's flank. When he groped his hand down Cloud's slim belly, he found the boy stiff and swollen, flesh pulsing wildly at his touch.

Cloud wailed against his mouth at the touch, hips lifting, little heels digging into the bed as his toes curled. Sephiroth wrapped his hand firmly around Cloud's strutted little sex and cruelly stroked him, reveling in Cloud's cries and the shivers the boy couldn't seem to control.

"What do you want, Cloud?" he asked, fist tightening, head bending low so he could suck on Cloud's pert, pink little nipples. "What do you want? _Tell me_!"

"You," the boy moaned, hands fisted in the covers. His strong back arched and his hips jerked, his body tightening towards and orgasm that Sephiroth had no intentions of him reaching just yet. "You, Sir—I want _you_."

"Even if there's pain, Cloud?" he questioned, his voice harsh—but, then, so too would be their time together. "Even if I hurt you so badly you weep?"

"Yes, god, _yes_!" Cloud wailed, sobbing frustration when Sephiroth pinched the tip of his hard little cock, stopping the threatening flood. The boy writhed, flushed and hungry and decadent. "Yes, Sir—even if you hurt me, I want you. I have wept over lesser things…"

There was such a sad, resigned undertone to his answer that Sephiroth very nearly found himself pulling away again, confused by the anger he felt whenever Cloud's emotions affected him.

Instead, he pressed his lips to Cloud's in another scorching kiss and rocked his hips, teasing himself against Cloud's silky hide. He wrenched Cloud's small hand away from the cover and pried open his tiny fingers with one hand before wrapping that little hand around his pulsing flesh. Cloud's guarding hadn't escaped him, and he knew the cause of it—he'd wounded Cloud that day in a way that would, perhaps, _never_ heal. Still, he could and _would_ make the boy touch him, and Cloud would never resist.

Those warm fingers touched him with awkward hesitance, lightly and gently skimming over his flesh so that he moaned into Cloud's mouth. It was _good_, this teasing. Because in short order he would be buried up to his balls inside Cloud's delicate, beautiful body and the closer he was to the cusp, the easier it would be on his delicious little private. Sephiroth was not accustomed to taking things slowly, but he wanted to take the full measure of Cloud Strife, and was content to take his time.

One-handed, Cloud trailed his fingers over Sephiroth's flesh, teasing and testing, _learning_. His exploratory touches broke over Sephiroth time and time again until he lifted his mouth from Cloud's to clench his teeth, burying his face in the pillow and trying not to writhe against Cloud's roughly calloused, firm little hand.

When that hand trailed gently to the base and twirled up to lightly tickle over his balls, Sephiroth called it done.

He was near enough and he _needed_ the child with painful intensity.

Tears and all.


	27. Chapter 27!

Belatedly, he realized that he was ill-prepared to handle a lover, however decadent his bedroom may seem. Sephiroth's home was his sanctuary and he'd never brought a single soul into it outside of Angeal, Genesis, and the occasional SOLDIER who required something whenever he was off-duty. It was too intimate a thing to allow for one who demanded his lovers stay distant, but it was gallingly natural to have Cloud in his apartment, in his _bed_—the boy would hold such a thing dear with the dedicated stubbornness of youth, Sephiroth knew. With Cloud, all things were sacred.

But however startling and strangely satisfying it may be to _finally_ allow another soul to breach the fortress of his home, it still did not alleviate the fact that Sephiroth had nothing with which to ease his way.

As the first of many impulsive acts to come, it didn't bode well.

He cursed a little, swearing against Cloud's delicate, perfectly-shaped ear.

The child reacted to him with his usual instinctual accuracy and dropped the hand which teased him so lightly, big blue eyes fluttering open, questions in his eyes.

Sephiroth growled lowly, frustrated to be so stymied when he'd finally indulged his need to have Cloud just as thoroughly as one person could have another.

"I don't mind," Cloud whispered, his breath hot against Sephiroth's throat.

The man dipped his head to look at him, this sweet child lying so patiently beneath the heavy weight of his body.

Cloud's blue eyes had shifted, the welling darkness of his pupils eating up the faintly glowing blue so that a mere sliver of it showed in a bright, vibrant ring. That strangely seductive and equally disturbing soft smile was on his pale pink lips, his lashes lowering and lifting in languid invitation he didn't even know he was offering.

"You cannot know what you ask," Sephiroth decided, knowing at least _one_ of them had to approach this in a rational way.

"You said…" those eyes shifted slightly, pupils constricting briefly before dilating wide again. When Cloud spoke again, it was with the confident, yet endearingly _hesitant_ purr of his dark side, "You asked and I said yes…Even if you hurt me…"

"How can you know you can stand this if you've never tried it before," Sephiroth lowly said, trying to reason with him. He no more wanted to end this than he wanted to go into battle bare-handed, but he saw little choice—he either stopped it now, or took Cloud as the boy was so gently encouraging him to do.

Cloud shifted a little beneath him and blushed softly, but his eyes were heated when he stubbornly said, "How can you know how much you can hurt me if I never let you do so? I don't tell you to stop—don't tell _me _what I can or cannot stand."

Over the course of their months together Sephiroth had never gotten used to Cloud's surprising moments of stubborn confidence, mostly because Cloud chose the _oddest_ things to take a stand over and the General never could quite predict what precisely would cause Cloud's plump lower lip to poke out in a mulish pout and those blue eyes to narrow with obstinance.

This time was no less surprising.

And Sephiroth found himself silently thanking whatever gods were out there that Cloud Strife had balls when it suited him.

Cloud read his answer in his expression and wriggled softly, whining a little low in his throat, the sound almost wolfish to Sephiroth's ears.

The man silently rolled onto his side, his left hand tangling in the child's spiky blond hair, urging him downwards. Cloud, sensitive to his body language as always, easily and gracefully moved with him, lowering his soft mouth with a sigh that was blissfully languid.

The first touch of those feather-soft lips made his jaw tighten, the faint tickle of Cloud's warm breath on his sensitive skin enough to make his knuckles turn white in the boy's spiky hair. Cloud laved him with darting little kitten-licks of his warm tongue until Sephiroth roughly pulled on his hair, making him wince and then grin an utterly sultry, utterly _not_-Cloud grin that was unguarded and fully basking in attention.

Heeding the warning in Sephiroth's rough handling, Cloud opened wide and did his best to coat Sephiroth in slippery hot saliva, gagging a little when he forced too hard, swallowing convulsively, the resultant tears mingling to wet them both.

Pressed beyond patience by Cloud's innocent teasing and earnest attempt to ready him, Sephiroth tugged him up, his movements tight with his haste. He looked almost grim, his firm mouth set, his jaw tight, his muscles taut—he hauled Cloud onto his back and moved between his white, coltish thighs.

"Too far," he softly said, rolling the boy's hips up onto his bent knees, propping Cloud's slender ankles on his broad shoulders and giving him a long, lingering look. "There's no stopping it now, Cloud."

The boy paid him no mind. His blue eyes were hazy and dark, his cheeks flushed, his little erection straining valiantly against his lean belly. His blond hair spread over the black pillow, the darkness merely a stark contrast to Cloud's light, pure beauty. He tossed his head a little and again came that low, pleading whine, his slender fingers clenching in the sheets, his back arching once in restless offering.

"Now," he breathed, those blue eyes fastening on Sephiroth's face but not seeing him, no—the boy was all nerve endings and fierce desire now, wanting nothing more than what pleasure he could find. "_Please_…"

That soft plea very nearly undid the battle-hardened General.

He hastily plunged two fingers into Cloud's wet little mouth, pulse pounding at the easy, natural way the boy sucked, eyes nearly closing in bliss. He pulled them back, slick and warm, and gently slid a single finger up inside Cloud's hot, tight body.

Cloud moaned, hips lifting a little in a single, soft tremor of pleasure. It wasn't that Sephiroth had done anything more than slide a finger into him—the man knew, as surely as he knew what fed Cloud's darkness, that it was the act itself that aroused Cloud.

The _idea_ of it, of what he was doing and who did it to him.

'_There's so much more_,' he thought, realizing that Cloud could care less. What the boy was experiencing was enough for him, anything else was simply bonus.

Sephiroth withdrew his finger and guided himself in, easing cautiously into Cloud's body. It was excruciatingly tight, hot as a fire, and he found himself flushed as the boy's tender body enveloped his head.

Cloud moaned lowly, thighs tightening before his whole body went loose and languid, relaxing wholly in a way that only the very young or very trusting are capable of.

Sephiroth moaned with him, one arm holding Cloud's legs tightly to his chest, his free hand reaching under to cup the child's round bottom and lift him slightly.

Inch by slow, agonizing inch, Sephiroth worked himself deeper into Cloud's body, cursing the necessity of having a spit-fuck for this first, crucial time. Cloud, however, didn't mind—his breathing was slow and deep, his lips parted softly, his cloudy eyes unfocused as he concentrated on what was happening.

The deeper he went, the more cautious and disbelieving he became. Everyone has their limits, men as well as women, and Sephiroth was well used to the tell-tale signs that he was near it. But though he waited, though he inched forward with a conscious effort of will to go slowly and not harm his little private, Cloud Strife managed to surprise him yet again.

Sephiroth found himself settling fully into that boneless, heated, and utterly aroused little body.


	28. Chapter 28!

"Cloud," he said, his voice low and disbelieving.

The boy smiled in a vague, dreamy way, his slim legs sliding from Sephiroth's shoulders. He allowed, it, dropping the arm that trapped Cloud's thighs, feeling the boy's slender legs tuck neatly over his hips.

His heart was pounding, his body throbbing insistently inside Cloud's warm flesh. He braced himself on one sinewy, bent arm, the brunt of his weight on his elbow, sinking into the soft, yielding mattress. His slight shifting jostled Cloud and the boy winced, his breath coming out in a soft, low sigh.

"Cloud," he whispered again, and those legs tightened around his hips. He raised his other arm, braced now on both elbows, one hand tangling in Cloud's soft, spiky hair. His teeth clenched involuntarily, pushed to the edges of his control by his patience and excruciating entrance.

That beautiful, angelic, and frighteningly trusting face turned a little, those hazy eyes meeting his, loose lids lowered in lazy bliss. Cloud took a deep breath and arched a little.

It was a small movement, fractional, nothing more than a slight ripple through his slim young body—but it caused him to tighten around Sephiroth's aching cock. The man was more aroused than he could ever recall being, and he shuddered hard, gasping a little. Being inside Cloud was like being relentlessly and deliciously squeezed by a tight, hot fist and his whole body tightened in response.

Cloud moaned, low and soft with the merest edge of wolf's uneasy whine. He moved again and Sephiroth assumed it was discomfort—after all, he was buried nearly halfway into the boy's gut, it couldn't be _comfortable_. But then he noticed Cloud's breathing, slow and steady and somehow studied. He noticed Cloud's straining little erection still hot and hard against his belly.

Cloud flushed hotly and sighed, the growing tremors of his lithe young body clueing Sephiroth into what precisely his little private was doing.

He was working himself towards one fuck of a good orgasm, _that's_ what he was doing.

Sephiroth wanted to show him that there was more, wanted to show him what kind of pleasure could _truly_ be had from this kind of union—but to hit Cloud's sweet-spot would require actually _moving_, and he didn't dare risk Cloud's delicate body. There would be time enough later, and it relieved him a little to realize that there would _be_ a later—he wouldn't eject Cloud from his bed, from his home. Not anytime soon, anyway.

And Cloud seemed to be doing well enough on his own, his quickening breath and slowly tightening muscles betraying how dangerously close he was to the edge.

Sephiroth clutched him tight and breathed softly into Cloud's tiny shell of an ear, darting his tongue out to tease him before sinking his sharp teeth deep into his lobe.

Cloud wailed beneath him, body singing with aching tension. His little hands trembled, clenching and unclenching in the bedclothes, his mouth parted to voice those helpless, whimpering moans. It was utterly overwhelming, what he felt lying there beneath the heated, heavy General, impaled to the quick and closer than he'd ever been to another person. The hot, thick flesh inside him filled him and then some, uncomfortably large and yet welcome, the very thought of it causing Cloud's blood to boil, the pain of it drawing that darkness to the fore so that he reveled in it.

"This is how," Sephiroth whispered, shivering as goosebumps swept over his skin, waves of sensation washing out from the tight fit of their bodies to make him dizzy with pleasure. He panted harshly and bit Cloud again, darkly whispering, "This is how you give me that _darkness_, Cloud. _Suffer for me_…"

"Yes," Cloud moaned, his eyes huge, pupils dilated as far as they would go, his body shaking with tremors, back arching to press his hard belly and chest to the General's. His slender hips began to rock softly, not enough to actually move against Sephiroth's hard, brutal body, but enough to give Cloud's pulsing erection the slight friction he needed, enough to make him unbelievably conscious of the man's body buried inside his. He moaned a little, his movements slow and steady even as his pulse began to pound erratically.

Sephiroth groaned lowly when Cloud began to rock, the gentle movement enough to caress him. He clutched Cloud close, his hand tangled in the boy's hair, one arm slipping beneath the child's back to rest beneath his shoulders. He could feel Cloud tightening, working his little body closer to the edge, and it drove him wild to know how aroused Cloud was.

Cloud's eyes slit with pleasure, his breath coming in unsteady, deep gasps. The slow pulse of his hips never varied, only intensified in pressure as he rocked himself into a deep, muscle-clenching orgasm.

He moaned loudly, belly tightening and his small body curving upwards as it hit him. With the first heavy gush of his cum he threw his body back on the mattress and bucked his hips up hard, sobbing aloud as deep shudders wracked his thin body. It was unlike anything he'd felt before it—not even Sephiroth's cruel mouth on him had evoked such an encompassing reaction. Cloud writhed with it riding his body, his brain spiraling in pleasure, the whole of his body clenching around the hot, full flesh that filled him and set his little body afire with need. Nothing in his life compared to what he felt with that orgasm ripping through him, impaled to the quick on that hard cock and utterly _owned_.

His sudden movement caught Sephiroth by surprise and he caught his breath, a low moan working its way out of his mouth as he erupted in Cloud's tight little body. It seemed everything shattered for him in that instant, his world reduced to the straining push of Cloud's hips, the heat of his small body, the decadent tone of his cries, and the pulsing throb of his own body bursting apart at the seams. He tried to keep himself still and let the press of Cloud's hips milk him, but he surged hard against the boy, winning a startled, almost joyful cry from his plump little lips. He spent himself in a moment that seemed to stretch into an eternity of exploding nerve-endings and taut flesh before slumping limply atop the child's weak, panting body.

Instinct dictated that he retreat immediately, toss Cloud's clothes to him, and send him on his way. Instead, he lay utterly replete, most of his weight on his elbows, the length of his body pressed to Cloud's and those strong, slim legs still locked over his hips. He caught his breath in short order, just laying there, listening to the gasping, amazed stutter of Cloud's breath, feeling the shuddering spasms that still shook his sturdy little frame. Not wanting to interrupt the aftershocks of Cloud's surprising and obviously strong orgasm, Sephiroth waited for the boy's breathing to even out and the shivers to stop before rearing up over him.

"Take a deep breath," he said, and, as Cloud inhaled in obedience, Sephiroth clamped a hand over his mouth and pulled out quickly, smirking a little at Cloud's expression of outraged hurt and the little squeal of pain that muffled itself against his palm.

He slid his palm from Cloud's mouth to cup his jaw, gazing down at him with indulgence—Cloud was a child, Sephiroth could afford to be magnanimous and treat him kindly.

"Ouch," Cloud said, a belated whisper complete with drawn brows and a soft frown on his feline face. Sephiroth's steady, amused gaze began to fill him with familiar awkward shyness, and he blushed heatedly to realize he wanted nothing more than to hide in the latrine for the next few years—he could feel Sephiroth's cum oozing out of him and was suddenly terrified by the idea of standing up.

Sephiroth chuckled softly above him, amused, and dipped his head to kiss Cloud's soft lips, teeth grazing his skin in cautious nips.

"What a distraction you are, Cloud Strife," he sighed, sucking on the sweet lobe of Cloud's left ear and idly thinking that the child should get it pierced. It was much easier to get teeth into a pierced lobe. "I've never seen anyone pull a mind-fuck on _themselves_ before, I'm not sure I even needed to be here."

Cloud stammered a little and gave up, flushing to the roots of his hair and squirming beneath Sephiroth's large body. He quieted, however, when Sephiroth pulled away and stood up, towering over him, naked and still scary as anything Cloud had ever seen.

"…Sir?"

Sephiroth snatched him up, bundled into his arms like a baby. Cloud was so mortified he would've gladly died, but Sephiroth merely deposited him back in the bathroom and said, "Get cleaned up, Cloud—and don't take all afternoon."

"Yes, Sir," Cloud whimpered, desperately trying to ignore the slow, steady slide of cum creeping down his thighs. He fidgeted, wanting Sephiroth gone, and the man obliged him with a slight, knowing smile.


	29. Chapter 29

A/N: I'm considering giving up this story due to lack of interest on the reader's part—my last intention is to bore anyone, entertainment is sort of my thing. Perhaps I will break it up and start a part two or something less daunting than a story with far too many chapters? I still haven't quite puzzled out how these fiction sites work when it comes to people maintaining an interest, and I probably never will.

* * *

Cloud didn't take too long in the shower, heeding Sephiroth's warning. He emerged fully prepared to be shown the door with his clothes tossed at him as an afterthought—and if such a thing didn't happen he would certainly try to excuse himself as quickly as possible to avoid such an event.

Draped once more in yet another fluffy towel, Cloud tiptoed his way through the bedroom to the hallway beyond, looking around curiously. He'd never seen such opulence before in his young life, but it seemed so artificial and _sterile _that it made him a little sad. His own home in Nibelheim, though in no way perfect, had the warm air of a place much lived-in and loved. Sephiroth's home was impersonal, almost museum-like in its neutral, hushed, perfection.

He should have known that there was no sneaking up on the General. He no sooner cleared the doorway on his silent, bare feet than Sephiroth appeared at the opposite end of the hallway, pausing to look at Cloud, the light behind him casting a glow around his big, toned body. He'd dressed, Cloud saw, hiding once more behind the familiar armor of his usual ensemble.

Cloud felt terribly vulnerable and terribly out of place.

Lifting his chin a little, his big eyes steely, he moved quietly towards the silent General, noticing as he neared that Sephiroth's silver hair was dark with water and still dripping the occasional droplet against the leather of his coat.

"I suppose I could have made _you_ use the guest bath," he murmured, looking down at Cloud with that same mixture of amusement and cool reserve. "But you looked fit to pass out at the prospect of moving."

Cloud had no argument for that, he merely came to a stop and gazed up at Sephiroth with what he hoped was calm assurance.

It wasn't. On Cloud's expressive, beautiful, and terribly young face the look came across as defenseless and afraid with a touch of raw courage—it took guts to do what Cloud had done and face Sephiroth afterwards. It took guts to walk down that hallway with every possibility of being stonily and cruelly rejected. But Cloud didn't lack for guts, and Sephiroth knew it. It made him admire the tiny whelp in ways that he'd never admired a lover before. Then again, he'd never taken anyone as a lover who had the remotest possibility of becoming _interesting_.

He made a vague gesture at Cloud and turned away, moving with easy grace to the floor-length windows that framed his living room.

Cloud followed in his wake, surreptitiously glancing around, trying not to step on the carpet or touch anything any more than he had to. But when he got to the windows he forgot his fears and stared with awe out at the city of Midgar.

It was high afternoon and the city was ablaze with life, the lights bright in the murk that always overhung Midgar. People moved like ants through the thronging streets, vehicles adding to the mess of humanity. Cloud hadn't really taken in the full extent of the city itself, and found himself gaping in awe at its size and vibrant life.

"Your clothes are being cleaned," Sephiroth murmured, looking out at the horizon, his gaze distant and his beautiful face unreadable. Almost as an afterthought, he added, "They smelled _cheap_."

Cloud flinched, still feeling guilty though he didn't know why he should. Sephiroth had rejected him, after all. He'd been shoved out of the man's bed, insulted, and summarily exiled—if he'd returned in shattered pieces at loose ends and made a fool of himself in a whore's bed, it was surely none of the General's concern.

"I'll leave as soon as they're done," he said, looking back out at the city, his former awe forgotten. That cold despair was settling over him again, the thing that squeezed his heart painfully in his chest and made him long for the uncomplicated life of a farm boy. At times like these when he felt the sharp, cruel edge of Sephiroth's utter lack of regard, Cloud silently despaired that he had ever come to Midgar in the first place. The reality was so much better than the dream, but in ways so much harder to take. Better, then, the wistful wishes of one who didn't know any better, the daydreams of childhood instead of this impersonal and disappointing truth.

Sephiroth would always discard him, and Cloud would always bend to his fickle whims when the man wanted him again. To know himself to be so weak depressed the boy, and he hugged the warm, damp towel close.

"You'll leave when I say you leave," Sephiroth said, his tone never changing, still rather absent and disinterested. "Unless, of course, you'd like to be caught by your own kind and have to make excuses for being unescorted on the officer floor."

Cloud gave up trying to look at the city. He looked up at Sephiroth instead, his steady, sad gaze wounded.

"What do you want from me?" he asked, his low voice barely above a whisper.

Sephiroth turned his head slightly and looked down at him, his face a mask of reserved beauty. Those cool jade eyes gazed down at Cloud with detached curiosity, but no warmth.

It might have intimidated Cloud months ago, when his head had been filled with the General as a superhero, a celebrity, the savior of their way of life. Now it just frustrated him, because he'd seen beyond the daunting and flawless front to the man beneath—the one who moaned his name when he came, the one who kissed him so cruelly and with such obvious skill, the one whose touches mingled pain and pleasure into a seamless, joyous whole.

"Am I a joke to you?" he asked, hurt but angry at the whole situation. His mother's old saying came back to bite his pride, '_Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on _me.' And, no matter that he knew so much better, he just kept letting Sephiroth fool him. "What have I ever done to you, Sir? If I'm just another _body_ in your bed—"

"Be still."

Cloud quieted, but his shining blue eyes blazed trembling anger.

"Don't forget for one second who you're speaking to, private Strife," Sephiroth murmured. "If I want you hogtied and naked on a silver platter, I will have it. If I want you spread out on your back in the SOLDIER training area, I will have it. If I want you sprawled across the President's desk with his entourage looking on in horror, I will have it. You are not a joke to me, no—you are a _possession_, and I will use you as I see fit…and you will allow it because you have no choice in the end."

"Because I'm your subordinate?" Cloud bitterly asked, staggered by the depths of the General's cruelty, appalled that the thought of any one of those things made that _darkness_ cavort in his head in hungry anticipation.

"No, because you were made for one such as I," Sephiroth simply said, shrugging his wide shoulders a little. He looked back out at the city. "I alone can give you what you need, Cloud. Everything you need but one."

Love.

Cloud's lower lips trembled and he bit it to make it stop, but the shuddering merely spread over the rest of his body. It was a child's foolishness to even think that Sephiroth could ever _feel_ for him, but to hear it confirmed once again in such a toneless, careless voice crushed something inside him, something gentle and full of hope. He felt it go, relentlessly broken by the cruelties of reality, the last of his childish hopes swept away like so much debris. The last of his _childhood_.

He took a deep breath that hitched unevenly before lowly saying, "I would never expect it of you, Sir."

He dropped his head before the tears could show, focusing hard on not letting that brutal wash of pain undo him. No, Cloud certainly didn't expect the great General Sephiroth to love him, not _really_, whatever his childish heart may have wished for. He'd come to the conclusion long ago that where love was concerned, he would always be on the outside looking in. After all, how could Sephiroth ever love him when his own father couldn't? When his own mother _wouldn't_? It was the core of what made Cloud so susceptible to loving others, that need to be loved in return and finally know what it was like, finally know that he was _worthy_.

Unable to endure another second of Sephiroth's impersonal boredom, Cloud backed quietly away, moving slowly so as not draw the man's attention. Sephiroth was aware of his movements, but not particularly caring of what he was about. Once he hit the deeper shadows of the interior of the living room, Cloud turned and ran for the door on light, bare feet, clutching the towel to his body and wishing he could outrun his own failings as easily as he left the General's home behind him.


	30. Chapter 30

A/N: Wow, do I feel like a bullying bastard! Thank you all for the mass uprising against ending this story, I truly had no idea that I had so many "silent" readers—I just looked at the stats and saw hits dropping off sharply with each chapter so I figured this story must be crap however much I love it. But, you all have set me straight on that count and I am grateful to you! I won't end it just yet, then, not until it finds its natural course.

* * *

This is dedicated to all of you who read and like my stuff—and mostly for Makowhore: lemme know you're alive, kid! What happened to you?! All my Makowhore bookmarks just "poof!" Without further delay—the next chapter.

* * *

Cloud didn't think about where he was going or what on earth he was going to do in just a towel on a restricted floor of the Shinra main building, he just _ran_. It was all he could think of to do, and it was bitterly galling to know that he _always_ ran when life presented him the intractable, the harsh and cold. He thought of his mother suddenly, remembering one of the bad nights when her sadness had overwhelmed her and she'd wept ceaselessly, the alcohol not helping her one whit. She snapped at Cloud that night, she'd lashed out like a wounded animal and hissed something ugly and mean at him that had sent him into flight…and her mocking, miserable words had followed after him, "Run, run, Cloud—god knows it's never done _me_ any good…"

So he ran pell-mell down the mutely lit hallway with wild, blind eyes, clutching the towel as if it held his salvation, his head empty but for that terrible need to flee and find refuge.

He careened headlong into something hard and warm that knocked him back almost a full foot before big, strong hands grabbed hold of him.

"_Strife_?!"

Cloud's breath was coming in shuddering, gasping hitches, his eyes huge in his strained little face. He looked terrified and at his wit's end, a creature with absolutely no recourse. He didn't even care if he was caught now, didn't even think of an excuse or imagine how he could explain.

Luckily, he didn't have to.

Angeal dragged him a touch closer, looking down at him with true concern.

"Private Strife, what are you doing up here?" he asked, his low voice rumbling through Cloud's tight chest.

Cloud didn't answer. He gazed up at Angeal with all that mute, hopeless appeal stark on his wan little face.

Angeal's brows drew close in a frown and he looked back the way Cloud had come, though he knew well enough what lay there. Of the only three doors in this hallway, one went to Genesis's quarters, one to Sephiroth's, and one to his own. He stared long and hard at the utterly benign doorway to Sephiroth's home, his frown deepening. Turning Cloud by his grip on the boy's shoulders, he ordered, "Come with me."

With little choice in the matter, Cloud let himself be ushered into Angeal's own quarters, the door closing behind him with a quiet finality that was strangely soothing.

If Sephiroth was all that was cold and intriguing, Angeal was everything warm and comfortable. He took the situation in hand with an amazing lack of surprise and got Cloud both dressed and calmed down in less than fifteen minutes. Granted, dressed in clothes far too big for him and still miserable, but it was an improvement. The bigger man hadn't asked for details, hadn't pressed Cloud's silence—he'd merely plopped Cloud down on his well-worn couch and fed him chicken soup, apologizing that it was canned.

Cloud hadn't eaten since the night before and welcomed the food. It was embarrassing and a little shaming to hear the older man quietly say, "I take responsibility for this, Private Strife. I read the situation in Wutai incorrectly and I'm afraid you're paying for it."

Cloud paused with his spoon mid-raised, his big eyes moiling with confusion.

"I should have anticipated this," Angeal told him, his usual frown deepening. He gestured for Cloud to keep eating. "He is a hard man to understand at times, even for a close friend."

Cloud couldn't force any more food down his throat, his stomach tightened itself into sudden knots and threatened to do the usual in response to stress—he found himself trying desperately not to throw up. He put the bowl down with shaking hands and took deep, even breaths.

"What things of yours did you leave inside?" Angeal asked, his business-like tone relieving Cloud to no end.

"…m…my ID, Sir," Cloud told him, hugging his thin arms across his chest. "My wallet—everything that was in my pockets."

Angeal nodded a little and softly said, "You'll have them back this evening. The CQ can let you into your barracks room."

"Yes, Sir," Cloud said, grateful to hear it. He'd only just realized what such a loss would mean: explanations to his superiors and a counseling for losing his MP ID, the replacement cost of his clothing and boots, the lost-key fee for the barracks door…

Angeal smiled at him suddenly and murmured, "If only he weren't on a mission."

"Sir?" Cloud questioned, baffled.

"My pupil—Zack Fair," Angeal said, smiling suddenly. "If he were here he would set you to rights in no time. You could stand to be a bit more like him, Private Strife. Zack ran up against his fair share of resistance, but he worked hard and now he's doing even better than I can willingly admit. He isn't one to let personal issues stand in the way of what he wants."

Cloud had a sudden, sharp wish to _be_ this unknown SOLDIER, to be a person who elicited such admiration from people like Angeal and Kunsel.

"How did he do it, Sir?" Cloud asked, wanting to be strong for himself, wanting to be someone that other people couldn't just wound as they saw fit.

"Well," Angeal said, his expression solemn now. "He worked out on his free time every single day and he ate well—taking care of your body is the first, most important step of SOLDIER, you know. And when he wasn't doing that he was pestering just about everyone he could find to teach him, teach him anything at all…either that or he was pulling pranks with that damned Turk…"

Angeal scowled suddenly, and Cloud wondered what kind of pranks could be played by what kind of person to merit that look. He remembered the Turks he'd met his first day in Midgar—they, and all the others that Cloud had known so far, certainly didn't seem like playful people.

"…Which he _still_ does," Angeal added, smiling a little in wry amusement. "Don't mind it, Strife—I'm just worn out and old and Zack is hardly older than you. Too much energy and not enough space to spend it. But it's good advice, boy—if your mind is causing you too much grief, it's best to work it out through your muscles."

"Yes, Sir," Cloud said, nodding a little. "It _is_ good advice."

"Good," Angeal said, with an air of 'well, that's settled, then.' "Now, let's get you off of this floor in relative peace and quiet, and you can spend the rest of your weekend putting it to good use."

"Yes, Sir," Cloud said, and gave him a sad, raw smile. "Thank you, Sir."

"I merely do as I should, Private Strife, and hope that others will show the same courtesy."

* * *

Sephiroth sighed and tried to find some measure of amusement in the stark, sterile labs. He'd complained since he was old enough that Hojo should have _something_ to keep him occupied during these aggravatingly long physicals. And since Sephiroth was required to undergo one once a month when he was not in the field, he felt his complaint was valid.

There was a soothing quality to this, however—the muted silence of the examination room, the familiar blank walls, the waxy-cool feel of Hojo's hands pulling at his skin to examine him. Things had been somewhat…_unsettled_ for Sephiroth of late, and he found the familiar routine blessedly unchanged.

Cloud fleeing his home had been something of a shock for Sephiroth—he was used to enemies scattering before him and lovers hurriedly backtracking, but he hadn't counted on Cloud taking off with nothing more than a towel to cover his beautiful white hide. By the time he'd realized what the boy had been about, Cloud was already through the doorway and it was out of his hands. Luckily, Angeal had found him—he'd stopped by later for Cloud's things, stern and disapproving, his eyes reproachful. Sephiroth had found himself wishing suddenly for Genesis. At least _he_ had appetites enough not to disparage Sephiroth's own. Still, he was momentarily stymied by his next move. How on earth to approach Cloud now that the child was more skittish than a hunted deer?

"What on earth's happened to your hand, boy?" Hojo demanded, lifting the offending appendage with his spidery hands to peer more closely at it, his glasses sliding down his beaky nose. He made a "tsk" noise and shook his head, mourning, "Your left hand…it _had_ to be your left hand…"

"Stop being foolish," Sephiroth snapped, flexing his fingers to show that his hand worked properly. "An MP bit me, it's several months gone, old man—I should think that if anything were going to happen it would've already."

Hojo frowned, examining the circular teeth marks.

Though he defensively claimed it was fine, even Sephiroth would admit it was rather odd that Cloud's bite had not yet healed completely. There was no sign of infection, no redness, only the pattern of his little teeth and a perfect half-moon of perforations. It didn't bother Sephiroth or interfere with his sword-play at all, so he had dismissed it as a nominal thing, but it still nagged at him—he always healed quickly and he always healed clean. There wasn't a scar one on his glorious body, not even from such accidents as Genesis at times suffered, or even Angeal.

"They're keeping them rather feral these days," the old scientist absently murmured, using his glasses as a magnifying glass to see into the punctures, so close to Sephiroth's hand that the General could feel the furnace-like blast of his breath on his skin and wished vainly that he could wash his hands at once.

The comment, however, made him smile a little in remembrance of that night in his sleeping bag and Cloud's wild, passionate responses.

"Yes," he smirked, the memory pleasing him. "Cloud Strife certainly is a little _beast_."

Hojo started so violently that he dropped Sephiroth's hand, shocking the General, who only ever saw the older man in overbearing-command mode. The scientist's washed out, watery eyes were wide to the point of showing whites and his loose mouth hung open. When Sephiroth's eyes narrowed, the man realized how badly he'd betrayed himself with his reactions and tried to cover it, giving Sephiroth a wheedling smile and forcing a laugh, saying, "Those peasant boys are a handful, I imagine."

Sephiroth's eyes narrowed even further and he lowly, softly asked, "How would you know if Cloud was a 'peasant boy'?"

Hojo audibly swallowed hard and put on his most servile smile, sweetly saying, "Now, now, my boy—you know I've spent my fair share of time in Nibelheim! I _treated_ Cloud as a _baby_! Perfectly run-of-the-mill, nothing out of the ordinary whatsoever."

Sephiroth gazed at him with those cold, calculating eyes and Hojo suddenly resumed his interest in Sephiroth's wound, muttering, "Did he ingest blood? He must've, with the depth of these marks…"

Sephiroth yanked his hand back and, when Hojo made to grab it again, hissed, "_Leave it_!"

"Very well, very well," Hojo sighed, shaking his head. He resumed the usual course of the examination but Sephiroth was still _unsettled_. It seemed the familiar labs were not so soothing after all, and his mind was awash with vague concerns and curiosity about Cloud Strife's origins. It _bothered_ him to know that Cloud had been handled as a child by none other than the offensive and brusque Professor Hojo.

The exam ran its course and Hojo pronounced him fit, giving him the usual impatient wave towards the injection room where some nameless tech would pump Sephiroth's veins full of mako for a quarter of an hour.

He dressed with his usual graceful, languid movements but paused before leaving the room. He looked back at Hojo and caught the man staring at his gloved left hand. Frowning again, he mildly asked, "This _treatment_ you gave Cloud as an infant, what was it for?"

"Oh, that?" Hojo scoffed, his hand waving it away. "His mother brought him in a panic—stupid child had gotten into some poison they use on those farms, to keep the pests out of the crops."

Sephiroth quirked an eyebrow, wondering how an infant would get into poison. Hojo seemed to pick up on it and smiled his most condescending smile, saying, "I never said he was an _infant_, Sephiroth, my boy. I said he was a _baby_—a toddler, to be exact. Not even out of nappies."

It tasted _strange_ to Sephiroth, all of it. It left him once more oddly _unsettled_.

"Off with you, I've work to do," Hojo snapped, once more an arrogant tyrant in charge of his minions.

Sephiroth gave him one last disgusted glance and departed for his injections.


	31. Chapter 31

The worry nagged him the rest of the day so that he found himself back in his quarters—invaded though they had been by his defenseless little private, they were still the only refuge of solitude that Sephiroth had. God forbid he ever step foot on the streets of Midgar, he'd be mobbed in a heartbeat by excited, overzealous fans…and wouldn't the press have a heyday publishing pictures of the General cutting a bubble of personal space out of flesh with the _Masamune_.

Still unsettled, Sephiroth sat behind his desk and logged onto ShinRa's in-house net. He could access virtually every file cached—security clearances were a by-gone conclusion for himself, Angeal, and Genesis, all three far too important to ShinRa's welfare to be kept in ignorance. Still, there were files in the science division that he could not get into, and a few in other areas as well.

Idly, he pulled up the MP roster. Though none of the grunts were ever told, the Turks pulled backgrounds on everyone who came to ShinRa for employment. The President's jailbait son thought it was paranoid—Sephiroth thought that it was good-planning.

Cloud's promotion photo came up when he selected the boy's name. He looked horribly young and eager in the photo, beaming with joy, his eyes sparkling and his new rank proudly displayed on his turned shoulder. Sephiroth gazed at those jewel-like, sapphire eyes and recalled how they'd glowed so softly, so faintly that it was nearly unnoticeable to anyone whose senses weren't enhanced.

"What are you, Cloud Strife?" he murmured, and clicked to open the boy's history.

There was very little. Cloud was, indeed, from some backwater called Nibelheim. Sephiroth thought he might've known that already, but wasn't quite sure, and wasn't very happy that Hojo had spoken _that_ much of the truth. It listed his birthday along with his birthplace, and the names of his parents, which Sephiroth noted with absent interest. For one so young, it wasn't abnormally short, but there were things about it that made Sephiroth unwillingly curious.

Namely that Cloud's health records were kept in a separate file that linked on the out-net to the Nibel County municipal department, an asterisk next to it denoting multiple cases.

With a vague feeling of uneasiness, Sephiroth found himself looking despite his insistence to himself that Cloud Strife was nothing more than a beautiful, edible, and malleable body in his bed.

It noted several instances of suspected child abuse, explaining, perhaps, why Cloud's mother had taken the boy to _ShinRa_ for help—unwilling to expose her husband to possible arrest, it was the only option. The poisoning had indeed happened. Hojo had both contacted the local authorities and taken custody of Cloud in the interim. All of the files were locked and had been since the time they were entered—Sephiroth could access them if he put a request through Hojo, but he was reluctant to bring Cloud to his attention any more than he already had and doubted the wily doctor would grant him his request.

Though ShinRa had taken custody of Cloud for over three weeks, he had eventually been returned to his mother's care and there his history ended. He'd been processed as any other MP under Tseng's instructions when he arrived—explaining how he'd slipped through Hojo's fingers, as he and the Turk were not even nominally amicable—and from there had gone on to deploy to Wutai. A short, rather pathetic biography for a boy who had, perhaps, never been given what he deserved.

_'What did he do to you when he had you, Cloud_?' Sephiroth wondered. '_What did _they_ do to you, and _why?'

Something else niggled at his mind, some keen and cold perception that he noticed more and more often as he grew older.

'_Why would she take him to _Hojo?' it asked. '_Why not to _any_ of the ShinRa medics? And the old man wouldn't see just _anyone_, no. She _knew_ him before, she must've…_'

Frowning, he searched the name of Cloud's mother. Nothing.

He searched again under her maiden name.

A single file, locked under Hojo's reference number. Same name, same birthday, same place of birth, and the same woman—though younger—looking out from the same kind of photo.

_Absolutely_ unsettled, Sephiroth pulled out his cell and dialed the ShinRa front desk, asking to be connected to the MP Brigade commander's home phone. He made himself concise and he made himself abundantly clear—under no circumstances whatsoever was Cloud Strife to be exposed to, alone with, or allowed anywhere near Professor Hojo or _any_ medical personnel without a superior's direct supervision. No tests, no questions, not even a glance was to be allowed—_nothing_. And if the Professor tried to contact Strife or request him to report for a physical, he was to be put off and Sephiroth was to be contacted immediately.

He felt nominally better once the call was complete, though not by much. He knew he'd clued Hojo in to Cloud's presence in Midgar but there was very little else he could do to counteract the unforeseen effects of his remark.

He closed out the browser and turned his computer off, solemn and still. It was an awful, sobering thought that nothing had changed for Cloud. He'd left a place where no one loved him and had come to a place where no one _would_. It bothered Sephiroth more than he was willing to admit and, in a deep, secret way, it shamed him as well. He was unused to feeling guilty about what he did to his lovers, but Cloud's background put so much in perspective, explained so much about his hesitant, eager-to-please personality.

They were not so different, if he considered it rationally. He, too, had endured a less than perfect childhood, due to his own nature and being raised by ShinRa. But, his own cold form of need had been alleviated by his two closest friends, though he never required that they love him. It was ironic that what Sephiroth disdained, Cloud searched for with the despairing, needy hope of a child who'd never been loved. Sephiroth refused it, Cloud craved it. Sephiroth had never felt the slightest need to experience it, but Cloud could not survive without it. And how those drives had shaped them both, making himself into a creature who bled such things out of others like an emotional vampire—and Cloud into a creature who gave freely and desperately the one thing he needed another to feel for him, as if the need to love were a compulsion that might somehow lessen his need to be loved in return.

No wonder Cloud had fled.

With a sigh the man stood and stalked silently back to his bedroom, undressing with soundless efficiency and getting into his cold bed. He lay awake for a long time in the muted darkness, the utter stillness of his soul a bitter balm to the moiling of his mind.

* * *

It wasn't much later when his cellphone woke him, trilling its chime with that pleasant, indifferent, automated voice announcing, "_Call from __Deusericus, Lazard; SOLDIER Executive_."

He flipped the phone open and lowly said, "Speak."

"It's Genesis," Lazard said, no preamble. "I tried to keep it quiet as long as I could, but there's no hiding it now."

Sephiroth stayed silent, waiting with breathless anticipation to hear what Genesis had schemed _now_. He recalled his last conversation with his prickly, unpredictable, and utterly treasured friend and knew a peculiar sadness—somehow, someway, he felt that he would never see Genesis again…not as a friend, anyway.

"He's gone missing, Sephiroth," Lazard said, and sounded strangely remorseful. "He took two entire Brigades of SOLDIER with him and just vanished…"

Sephiroth took a deep, angry breath and closed his eyes tightly. He'd known that Genesis hated Wutai with a passion that eclipsed all others. He'd known that his friend was not exactly the most emotionally stable person. He'd known that it was only a matter of time before the carnage, the immersion in a foreign country, the company of only SOLDIERs would take its toll.

"I want it stopped," Sephiroth breathed. "I want the war ended. _Now_."

"Sephiroth, we've been trying for years—"

"_Do _not_ lie to me_," Sephiroth snapped, his voice icy. "I'm not an imbecile, Lazard. I've known since it began that Wutai was a staged war—publicity is ShinRa's best friend—and now _mine_ is lost, defected with better than a quarter of our troops. _I want it stopped_. I will never, _never_ step foot in that god-forsaken country again, nor will any SOLDIER do so under my command. _Is that clear_?"

There was a long silence from the other end before Lazard said in his pleasant, low voice, "Understandably clear, General. ShinRa is, indeed, grateful for your continued service. I will get to work immediately."

"Do not ask me," Sephiroth said, his anger draining away. He'd as good as promised Genesis that he would not follow, but that did not mean he couldn't send another friend. "Angeal will do it. Assign him and Fair."

Again, another pregnant pause, but Lazard gamely answered, "I will do so, Sephiroth. I believe Zack Fair is a good candidate for promotion, especially in light of our current situation. We need good SOLDIERs."

"Then stop losing them," Sephiroth shortly said, and snapped his phone closed.

He slumped back onto his pillows and thought again of his last meeting with Genesis. He'd been so cruel, intentionally making Cloud uncomfortable simply for the pleasure it brought him. When had they all changed so drastically? Sephiroth still recalled their childhood games—if sword-play and combat were games. They'd been unlike anyone else in the world and they'd known it. The three of them, ShinRa's first SOLDIERs, carrying swords and arms before they'd even hit their teens. Staunch Angeal so diligent in his studies, himself so reserved and confused by their affection for him, and Genesis the satyr whose flashing grin and bright blue eyes had changed so subtly over time. Sephiroth couldn't pinpoint the time, but somewhere along the line they all three had grown up and become hard men—hard for others to understand, hard to be understood by each other. He hadn't really registered how much they'd grown apart, how much Genesis was the glue that bound him to Angeal and to his own humanity. No one could make him smile like Genesis, no one could come at him with such frustrated fury and be turned aside with such cool understanding.

Genesis was his best friend and, somehow, his greatest rival—a rivalry instigated by Genesis himself and fed by the man's ambitious jealousy…

Though he'd so adamantly resisted returning to Wutai under any circumstances, his own peculiar brand of concern for Genesis prompted him to follow Angeal and Zack only half a day after they left. He didn't know what he would find, and he wasn't sure he would like it once he did, but he couldn't give up on the man who was his friend and the carefree boy he remembered him being.

But even in the midst of this unsettling worry, Cloud Strife was never far from his thoughts.


	32. Chapter 32

As if Angeal's words had broken some sort of inner dam, Cloud began to grow. As the lonely weeks slipped past, his body began to shape itself under his relentless pursuit of mass and—true to Sephiroth's silent prediction—his sturdy, almost stocky frame began to show a surprising amount of lean muscle. He grew taller as well, shooting up from his bare five feet and change to five-six. He grew so fast that had he to DX his uniforms twice in as many weeks, though he was by no means any better than rather short.

It was a painful time, the growth spurt hitting him unexpectedly and alleviated a little by Dai's cheerfully offered muscle rub. It could do nothing to still the ache of bones growing too fast, though, nor of joints becoming used to increased weight—Cloud found himself spending more and more time in the sauna when he could spare it, the heat and steam easing his sore body.

His voice changed as well, finally deepening to a low, pleasant timbre that was only enhanced by his soft-spoken ways. Girls began to take more notice of him, and Dai's teasing became nigh unbearable when they happened to go places. Cloud was still shy, though that had also changed to become more of an aloof reserve. He'd taken a page from Sephiroth's book, thinking that if anything could protect him best it would be that manner of disinterest, that habit of remaining apart. It drove the girls he met to outdo themselves in attempts to draw him out, but Cloud wanted nothing more than to be left alone. It wasn't a lack of interest in their gender so much as it was his resignation to his fate—he would never be loved, it was better to just avoid disappointment.

He heard about the mass SOLDIER disappearance and duly kept his silence. Even if Sephiroth had a low opinion of him, he could keep his secrets, and he knew that Genesis had as good as _told_ the General that he was leaving. But SOLDIER was Sephiroth's affair, not Cloud's, and he quickly put it out of his mind.

Dai tried for and was accepted into SOLDIER as soon as he could, wheedling and cajoling Cloud to do the same. Cloud didn't feel ready yet. He was emotionally raw, physically sore, and still at loose ends. He didn't feel as if he could commit himself to such a thing, and wished Dai the best of luck.

And all along in his deepest, most closely guarded secret self, Cloud silently despaired that never once did Sephiroth try to contact him, even look at him, even _try_.

Almost out of the blue, Cloud's Brigade Commander ordered him to go on a mission to assist the Turk Tseng. It was unexpected but welcome, but when Cloud went to go pick up his orders, he accidentally overheard his first-line supervisor being told, "The General said that he must be put off at all costs—Tseng needs a few extra hands and this is as good an excuse as any. I'm rather running out of them at this point, I'm not sure how much longer I can keep Hojo from getting what he wants, Sephiroth's orders or no."

It made Cloud wonder just what on earth was going on.

"Private Strife," Sergeant Horde said, becoming aware of his presence. "Good, I'm glad you've reported early. You're being sent to Modeoheim to assist the Turk Tseng and SOLDIER 1st Class Zack Fair in an investigation. There really isn't much to tell you—Tseng will inform you of anything you need to know. We aren't sure how long it will take, so pack your gear and leave it on the transport. Be at the helicopter pad at 0600. Dismissed."

Cloud relaxed his stiff parade-rest and hurried back to pack his things, feeling strangely apprehensive about finally meeting this Zack Fair he'd heard so much about. He was nervous enough that he slept badly, dreaming odd dreams about Genesis and Sephiroth and too many secrets to keep.

He woke early and made enough time to work out before he showered and headed to the bird. Ever aware of the attention his rather untamable blond hair garnered, Cloud was sure to keep his helmet on. Besides, it made an impersonal, useful barrier between himself and others.

There was one more MP besides himself who arrived somewhat later and Cloud spoke to him comfortably enough until the pilot arrived to begin his pre-flight inspections. Not long after, Zack Fair made his first appearance.

Cloud's first thought was, '_They are right to love him_.' It was followed by an overwhelming desire to be friends with him, just to be close to his bubbly, upbeat aura. But, true to his shy demeanor, Cloud held himself in check, berating himself rather harshly and wondering just what he was thinking, hoping for such things. He could count his friends on one hand, and most of them were simply vague acquaintances—no one bothered with him, and he really couldn't blame them.

Zack made an entrance, Cloud had to hand it to him. He came bounding out of nowhere into their midst like an overexcited pet, asking the pilot question after question, genuinely interested in the workings of the helicopter. It made the other MP laugh aloud and immediately relax his stance—both of them had snapped to attention when Zack appeared, only his tell-tale uniform giving away his identity. There was nothing remotely untouchable or aloof about this eager boy with his spiky black hair, big, excited eyes, and infectious grin. He was nothing like Sephiroth, but somehow reminded Cloud warmly of Angeal—that same core of surety, that same pure integrity and kindness.

When he finally turned to greet the MPs he did so with a careless grin and a strong, firm handshake.

"Wow, that's quite a grip you've got!" he crowed, releasing Cloud's hand. "I spend a lot of time in the gym, too! And squats, you can't forget squats!"

Suddenly, he laughed a bit and shook his head, sighing in exasperation, "Where are my manners? My mother would _kill_ me! What are your names? Oh, hey—it's Tseng!"

Inquiry forgotten, he jogged to meet the Turk halfway and immediately got into an earnest, attentive discussion with him, leaving Cloud faintly bemused but still amazed by him. He'd never been near anyone with so much energy, it fairly crackled off of him, and Cloud found himself smiling softly just to see Zack's shaggy head tilting this way and that as he talked with Tseng.

Soon enough, it was time to depart, and Cloud clambered up inside the bird to sit on one of the uncomfortable metal benches. Tseng sat co-pilot, looking stern and yet very young as he spoke into his headset. Zack pulled the bay door closed and plopped down next to the other MP, chatting, though some of the animation had left him after his talk with Tseng. He seemed anxious and preoccupied, though it did nothing to still his easy grin or approachable ways.

"Are you going to join SOLDIER?" he asked, watching the other MP shrug a little. "Oh, come _on_! It's the best thing there is! _Honest_! You can't beat being a SOLDIER."

"I don't know, Sir, my mother—"

"Call me Zack—I don't like that 'sir' stuff, so just call me Zack," he insisted, giving them both an earnest look.

"Okay, s—_Zack_—my mother is afraid I'd go to Wutai and get myself killed," the MP finished.

Zack snorted a little and said, "Wutai is over with—_believe_ me, I was there!"

Cloud remembered his first meeting with Angeal and his scoffing, fond joke, '_Zack_? In _Wutai_?! How on earth would I keep track of him?' He smiled a little, understanding now what Angeal had meant, and was glad to know that he'd finally given in and taken Zack to do what he did best—his job. The glory for ending the Wutain War had been generously and erroneously laid at Sephiroth's feet, something the man had publicly tried to correct on numerous occasions…but the general public wanted their hero to be the one who ended the war, not some young SOLDIER hardly anyone knew of who was just getting his own fanclub. Sephiroth had given up, and Cloud had been hard-pressed to calmly watch the video feeds on his breaks without shuddering at the General's look of disgusted disdain. Too often he'd been the recipient of such a look, and the circumstances still made his heart hurt.

"Hel_lo_? Hey, you in there?"

Cloud realized he'd been wool-gathering when Zack's words were punctuated by a firm knock on his helmet, those dark blue eyes looking at him with amusement and concern.

"Were you sleeping in there? I hate these MP masks, I can never see your faces!" Zack laughed.

"I'm sorry," Cloud softly said, embarrassed. He dropped his head a little. "What did you say, sir?"

"Zack," he automatically corrected. "And I asked you if you were going to join SOLDIER."

"Oh…no, Zack," Cloud said, his words broken a little by his hesitant way of speaking. His stilted speech had gotten better since his voice had changed, but words were never something that came easily to Cloud—he watched and he waited, participation in the world around him was an unwelcome burden.

"What is _wrong_ with all you kids?" Zack demanded, though he was hardly any older than Cloud, and his words lacked any sort of venom. "Seriously, we need SOLDIERs, and there's no reason to not better yourselves! You both should try!"

"I couldn't…Zack," Cloud said, the youth's name foreign on his tongue, though he'd heard it often enough to feel almost like he knew him. "I don't believe General Sephiroth would appreciate me trying."

One winged black brow shot up to disappear under a bowing spike of black hair and Zack's blue eyes narrowed, searching him. As tactful as he was exuberant, he merely frowned a little and changed the subject.

Cloud retreated into silence, not sure why he'd bothered to reveal that he knew Sephiroth. It wasn't an attempt to impress Zack—there was nothing in his dealings with the General that were anything but shameful or sad, Cloud had nothing to boast of _there_. Perhaps he'd just said it because he felt it to be true. Sephiroth considered him an expendable object, something to be used and discarded, of no value or interest beyond what Cloud could offer him in his bed. He had never said one word about Cloud's fighting skills other than to remind him that he was weak, and his general opinion of the boy was so low that Cloud had come to the only conclusion he could—Sephiroth did not respect or even _like_ him, despite how much he may _want_ him, and there was no earthly reason he would want Cloud in SOLDIER as a constant reminder of how low he'd stooped when times were rough in Wutai.

Thinking of it upset Cloud in his usual manner and he started to get sick to his stomach. He was so distracted by it that, at first, he didn't even register the sudden shudder of the bird. It was Zack's startled but utterly commanding demand to know if anyone was hurt that brought him out of his despairing thoughts.

Zack was crouched speaking with Tseng who looked a little wild-eyed as he said, "We've been hit and it isn't good, Zack."

Cloud felt his stomach plummet to his toes as the bird dropped, the chug of the rotors suddenly stopping altogether.

Zack moved confidently back to his bench and ordered, "Strap in. _Now_!"

Cloud yanked the strap on his harness tighter and gripped it hard as the helicopter went down.


	33. Chapter 33

A/N: For all you attentive Crisis Core game-completers out there, a warning—yeah, I've taken some small liberties, there will be some differences, most notably in timelines, probably. I did my best, but I haven't had time to finish the game yet and the parts I've finished I've already forgotten the specifics of…my bad. Enjoy anyway! If it bothers anyone too much, email me and give me an earful: inamabilis(underscore)unloved(at sign)yahoodotcom

Oh, and in a shameless attempt to spread laughs and enjoyment among the reading population, check out my side-fic called _**Reno is God**_—I started it because _**Eromenos**_ is so depressing I feel like an emotional trainwreck every time I leave my computer, so **Reno Is God** was created to give me some laughs. It's got nada to do with my series and no plot to speak of, but it serves to amuse. Enjoy!

* * *

Somehow, Cloud found himself lying face down in a pile of snow. The cold of it wasn't any more shocking than finding himself on solid ground in the first place, and he breathed a sigh of relief when his gloved fingers dug into the frozen earth.

"Darned monster," he heard, lifting his head a little to clear the snow, batting at his helmet to knock a film of the wet, clinging stuff off of it. "Always showing up at the worst times…_Tseng_?! _Army guys_?! _Hello_?"

Cloud gained his feet and saw Zack some ways away. The young man loped towards them when he spotted the three of them close together.

Tseng looked calm and collected, pulling out his PHS and frowning. Cloud murmured to his companion, asking if he was okay. The other MP nodded a little but swayed on his feet, unsteady. Of the pilot there was no sign, and no one seemed to think of it. Disturbed, Cloud looked back at the flaming wreckage, but his peering through the smoke showed him an empty cockpit, no sign of the pilot.

"…no signal. If we head to the bottom of the mountain, we'll end up in Modeoheim," Tseng was saying, drawing Cloud out of his fugue.

"Well, I'm a country boy! I'll lead the way," Zack said, apparently even a rather violent helicopter crash unable to chip away his formidable good cheer. He turned and began trudging up the steep trail from the gulch they were in, calling back, "Come on!"

Cloud scrambled after him and easily surpassed both Tseng and the other MP, before long finding himself walking with little effort next to Zack's steady, big strides. He walked like he owned the world, like he was nine feet tall instead of a few inches taller than Cloud's own five foot six…at least _he_ had more growing to look forward to, Cloud was pretty sure that he himself had already reached the pinnacle of his height.

They walked in silence, every once in awhile Zack paused to call encouragement back to Tseng and the MP who flagged far behind him. Cloud trudged on, hearing Zack come crunching over the snow next to him after having called back once more.

"You seem to be doing pretty well," he said, sounding pleased.

Cloud smiled behind his helmet and softly said, "I'm a country boy, too."

"Where?" Zack asked, delighted to find someone who wasn't a native of Midgar.

"Nibelheim," Cloud said, stopping in his tracks when Zack burst into gales of laughter. In response, he asked, "Zack?"

"Me?" the young man asked, grinning. He proudly shoved his thumb into his chest and proclaimed, "Gongaga!"

Cloud couldn't contain his soft laugh—_Gongaga_ sounded like a word used for some kind of rotten outhouse, not for a _town_.

"Hey! _Hey_!" Zack accused, bouncing closer and pointing while Cloud tried to hide his grin. "You're laughing! I bet you don't even know Gongaga!"

"No," Cloud admitted, regaining his composure. The last time he'd laughed aloud had been at his birthday so long ago! "But it _sounds_ pretty backwoods."

"Yeah, well, not as much as Nibelheim!" Zack said, feigning offense rather badly since his usual good humor betrayed him.

His response puzzled Cloud, who thought that all SOLDIERs would know of Nibelheim. Despite it being little more than a backwater farming community terraced into a mountain, it had a very productive Mako Reactor as well as a ShinRa field hospital—not exactly the amenities of a run-of-the-mill nowhere.

"You don't know Nibelheim?" he asked, trotting a few steps closer as Zack paced off away from him.

"Never been there!" Zack said, hands on hips and back arched as he looked up at the blue sky, taking a deep breath that seemed to energize him. He dropped his blue gaze to Cloud again and cocked his head, wild spikes of black hair falling all over the place. "There's a Mako Reactor there, right?"

"Yes, one of the largest," Cloud affirmed, feeling suddenly awkward and a little shy when he realized he'd been speaking to Zack without his usual stutter or hesitance.

"Well, Midgar has plenty of Mako," Zack said.

"And everyone else has none," Cloud finished with him, and they both laughed, the final barrier of rank falling from between them as they shared their amusement and mutual exasperation with the world at large.

Still chuckling, Zack called down, "Hey, Tseng! Don't worry! With me and…"

He looked at Cloud, waiting for him to finally name himself.

It took only a second to make his decision, though inside it felt much longer. Strip off his helmet and name himself to this stranger Angeal was so proud of? Open himself up for yet another unknown person to dissect and use as they pleased? Tempt fate with another opportunity to dangle something pleasant in front his nose before snatching it away? Or just stand there as yet another faceless MP and give his serial number that wouldn't be remembered, would never tell anything.

Zack's blue eyes were wide with an almost childlike excitement at everything around him, waiting expectantly for the answer. It was the guileless enjoyment on his face, the utter lack of malice that decided Cloud in his split-second decision.

He tugged his helmet off and gave Zack a soft smile, saying, "I'm Cloud."

Zack's eyes widened just a bit, clearly recognizing the name. It had not occurred to Cloud to think that Angeal might have spoken of _him _in turn to the boy he mentored. Being so valueless to Sephiroth had blinded him to his value where others were concerned, and he'd never given a thought to what Angeal might have agonized over or wondered about or spoken of on the subject of Sephiroth using an underage enlisted as a toy. Zack's subtle reaction to his name and seeing him unmasked told Cloud that Angeal must have spoken of him, though to what degree he couldn't hazard a guess.

When Zack grinned widely and turned to look back down the path, Cloud realized that whatever Angeal might have told him couldn't have been the full truth—or else Zack was going to judge him on his own merits instead of on what he'd heard about him—because the young man showed no signs of disdain, no evidence of drawing away. He merely waved his gloved hand as he shouted to get Tseng's attention, Cloud smiling softly at his side.

"…me and Cloud here there's nothing to be scared of!"

Tseng gave a weary wave of his hand, seemingly more exhausted by Zack's boundless energy than by the hike.

"Good, good," he said, stopping along the path to catch his breath. "I leave it in your capable hands, then."

"Come on," Zack said, jabbing an elbow into Cloud's ribs and turning around again. "They'll catch up."

Cloud smiled, his helmet tucked under his arm, and followed in Zack's wake.


	34. Chapter 34

"_Eromenos_…"

The word drifted from the dark shadows inside the abandoned building. Faint light crept through the boards nailed over the windows, as if afraid of the darkness inside.

Cloud shifted a little closer to the wall at his back, unnerved by the darkness and the whisper both, because he knew who that voice belonged to.

They'd made it to Modeoheim, Zack had managed to get inside, and then Tseng had split everyone up. He'd told Cloud to keep an eye on the trail outside, but he'd started to worry about Zack and disobeyed to follow him. Now, he wished he'd listened, because he'd quickly lost track of Zack in the labyrinth-like building.

'_At least I found the pilot_,' he thought, and was aghast at his own dark amusement at this—it was too much like Sephiroth's for comfort, and it bothered him. Still, the sight of their pilot, ripped from the helicopter by the attacking 'monster'—which just happened to be a Genesis clone—floating in a vat downstairs had done little to still his worry.

"Fumbling around in the dark and now hiding against a wall," that amused voice said, sultry and purring, disembodied in the dark. "Surely Sephiroth taught you to be more wary prey than _this_…"

Cloud had no response. He knew it was Genesis. If the strange word hadn't betrayed the speaker, the cruel, amused method of delivery would have. Cloud would never forget that man's smooth voice or cold smile, nor would he ever forget the hand that had lingered simply because Cloud's discomfit _amused_ him. Creatures who found pleasure in other's pain and bewilderment were dangerous creatures indeed.

Genesis came out of the shadows, his lithe body moving as if he was hurt. He looked years older than he had in Wutai, his mahogany hair streaked with grey, a light dusting of ash on his pauldrons and dull red coat. His light blue eyes were wary, glowing in the dim light, but he seemed relaxed, even languid as he draped against the wall opposite Cloud.

He hesitated, knowing he should shoot first and ask questions later, but this was the man that Sephiroth had, in effect, given a head start to. Cloud had already kept one secret for Genesis's sake, he couldn't simply attempt to kill a SOLDIER 1st Class. Genesis would swat him like a fly, with as little effort.

"You know, there are benefits to becoming a monster, little Cloud," Genesis sighed, and smiled when Cloud started. "Yes, I remember your name, _eromenos_—one who is precious to my…_complicated_ companion is worth remembering."

Cloud glared at him, but kept still, his rifle in his tight grip.

"As a monster, I can tell things about people that I couldn't before I knew what I was," Genesis went on, gesturing in that grandiose manner of his—every graceful movement used to punctuate his poetic way of speaking. Cloud felt oddly like a member of an audience, not like a boy trapped against a wall with an insane ex-SOLDIER. "For instance, I can tell that _you_ are no ordinary boy."

Cloud jerked back when Genesis reached for him, thumping his head against the wall and dropping his helmet.

Genesis laughed at his instinctive reaction but settled his gloved hand against Cloud's jaw anyway, sighing, "How you've _grown_, _eromenos_. I don't believe he will be expecting it. There are things that I need, that I _require_ of my dear, bitter enemy…Should I take _you_, little _eromenos_? Take you and let _him_ come to _me_?"

"He won't come," Cloud said, his first words to Genesis. His big blue eyes closed in pain and his free fist clenched, his other hand tightening painfully on the stock of his rifle. "It was nothing. Wutai was nothing."

Genesis considered this, stroking Cloud's cheek despite—or perhaps to relish—the boy's discomfort.

"I can tell that you aren't lying," he finally said, and tugged gently on the earring that had so recently taken up residence in Cloud's left ear. His fingers drifted up to Cloud's temple, sinking into his wild hair and tangling their way to the crown of his head. The boy winced when his hand tightened into a fist, pulling Cloud's hair to the point of being painful. "Yet, I know Sephiroth better than anyone else. Whatever failings I may have, whatever degradation may befall me, he is as much a monster as I am in certain ways, and I am not mistaken about you, Cloud."

"Yes, you are," Cloud hissed, his teeth clenched and tears of pain springing into his big blue eyes. "He is ashamed of me! He can't bear to be near me unless it's in private where no one can see! He _despises_ me, Genesis! He has no use for me outside of one and even _that_ he considers a weakness!"

Genesis stared at him, one eyelid twitching slightly at Cloud's vehement denial. In a conversational tone of voice, he murmured, "Your eyes glow, _eromenos_. They glow when you're upset. Do you still believe you are just an ordinary boy?"

"I believe that I am nothing worth speaking of," Cloud told him, staring straight into those cold, cruel blue eyes. "I believe that I am nothing he would ever bother to retrieve, Genesis—now tell me if I'm lying."

Genesis frowned at him, unable to reconcile what he knew from Sephiroth's reactions with what Cloud was telling him, which was obviously the truth as Cloud saw it.

The boy felt his stomach tighten with true fear when Genesis smiled at him. It wasn't warm, it wasn't friendly, and there was no hint of any human emotion in it. It was the feral, cunning smile of a cat about to swallow a mouse.

"_Eromenos_," the man breathed, and laughed a little. "Don't you understand, Cloud—Sephiroth despises _anything_ that makes him weak. Angeal and I, we both learned the hard way. What price, friendship? He always turns on those he loves _best_."

Cloud tensed when the man drew close, but what Genesis did next only confused the boy tremendously.

He placed a chaste, cool kiss on Cloud's forehead as he removed his hand from Cloud's hair and smoothed it. The kiss combined with the touch was so unexpected, so parental in its uncorrupted kindness that Cloud felt oddly moved, and watched with anxious eyes as Genesis removed a small pouch from the inside lining of his coat.

"Here, Cloud," the man said, holding it out to Cloud with a touch of his usual carelessness. "When you heed the call of your Master, bring him this. Tell him that this is my thanks for his silence…as for _your_ silence, child—consider your life as my gift."

Cloud felt the pouch press into his lax left hand and clutched it reflexively as Genesis faded back into the darkness on silent, booted feet.

Genesis's low, amused, and cold voice drifted back to him from the darkness, "Keep your secrets, _eromenos_, for his sake and for mine."

Cloud wasn't sure why he felt beholden to obey, but he knew with utter surety that he would, indeed, keep his secrets longer yet. And when the time came, as he knew it would, he would deliver the mysterious pouch to Sephiroth's hand, secrets intact.


	35. Chapter 35

There was very little Cloud would not do to have kept this day from ever happening. Nothing had gone right from the word "go," and now Zack was in a state Cloud wouldn't wish on his worst enemy, and all of them were miserable failures.

Once Genesis had gone off to do whatever it was that he deemed necessary, Cloud had finally found his way up the broken and rusted back stairs to where an angry Genesis was coolly and calmly in the process of killing the fat Doctor Hollander.

Cloud had been torn by indecision, knowing that his hesitation could mean the difference between life or death for the portly doctor but unable to force himself to act. Zack had saved him this agony of decision-making—the youth had come tearing out of the lift in a fury, thrusting himself between Genesis and Hollander, trying to keep the man safe as well as keep him contained.

Seeing his new hero had dissolved Cloud's momentary hesitance. He'd rushed forward to grab Hollander, managing to wrangle the much larger man while Zack traded angry, fierce words with the haughty and disdainful Genesis. Cloud, however much he'd been hitting the gym and forcing himself to grow up, was still rather small and slight, especially compared to the girth of the doctor strengthened by panic. Hollander had knocked him to the ground and he'd failed him.

He'd failed Zack.

'_If I hadn't let him get away, maybe Zack wouldn't have gone up there_,' Cloud thought, despairing. '_If I weren't such a child, Zack would never have had to face him…Angeal, I can hardly believe you're gone_…'

His grief was nothing compared to Zack's, and he anxiously watched the youth from his rigid seat in the belly of Tseng's commandeered helicopter.

Zack sat listlessly hooked into his harness, his body swaying in boneless time with the movements of the 'copter. His bright blue eyes were glowing in the dim light, wide and unblinking and wet with unshed tears. He didn't feign that he was fine. He didn't hide behind arrogance or brush the event off as nothing—he sat in solemn silence clearly aching for the man who'd mentored him and seen him through so many hard times, encouraging him every step of the way and showing him the patience of a saint when others would've gladly dropped him off of the nearest high building.

Cloud didn't know how to help him, though he wanted to. Pain poured off of Zack's body in palpable waves, so thick that Cloud could almost taste it.

"Zack?" he whispered, trying to get through to him without waking the MP sleeping next to him. "Zack…"

Those liquid blue eyes flicked up, shining with hurt and an ugly self-recrimination that had no place in what he'd done.

"I killed his best friend, and then I killed _him_," Zack whispered, looking at Cloud but not seeing him, lost in some dark place where events happened over and over, but the outcome never changed. "_I'm_ the worst kind of monster…"

"It isn't your fault," Cloud told him, daring to unhook his harness and scoot over next to Zack. Seeing someone in pain was something that Cloud could never ignore. Having been so ill-used all of his short life, he simply didn't have it in him to turn a blind eye to another's suffering. He laid his hand cautiously on Zack's pauldron, unsure of how welcome his presence would be. "We weren't there to help you, Zack. The blame lies with us, not you…"

Zack shivered, his shoulders shaking. He dropped his head into his hands, the black spikes of his hair falling down in all directions, and took a deep, hissing breath.

"I never could tell him no," he moaned, his voice low. "Because he never asked me for anything…nothing until he asked me for _this_!"

Cloud wasn't entirely sure what had gone on between Zack and Angeal. The young SOLDIER 1st Class had come stumbling down in a daze to where Tseng and Cloud waited. In a toneless, shell-shocked voice he'd simply said, "Genesis and Angeal are dead." He hadn't spoken since until moments ago. Cloud had an inkling that, perhaps, Angeal had not been willing to go on as he was—a deserter from ShinRa, an outcast with no honor. The Angeal Cloud had known so briefly simply wasn't the kind of man who would long forget his honor, and the huge sword he'd always carried now lay along Zack's strong back.

"I knew him a little," Cloud said, wanting to fill the silence, wanting to remind Zack of the proud, kind SOLDIER he'd known. "When I was deployed to Wutai, Angeal was there. He took my squad leader along with him but we crossed paths sometimes. He taught both of us some things with swords, and he never lost his temper even though we both were _awful_ with it."

Zack made a small sound that might've been a laugh, might've been a sob.

"When I was…_upset_, he took me in and stuffed me with chicken soup until I thought I'd puke," Cloud went on, smiling to remember that oddly comforting moment in Angeal's apartment. "He was so kind, trying to help me work my problems out and willing to listen to me. He never judged…and he only had good things to say of you, Zack."

Zack made another sound, and this time it was clearly a broken, wounded laugh, so soft Cloud might not have even heard it over the whine of the rotors. The man lifted his head and looked at Cloud with glittering, sad blue eyes.

"Good things?" he asked, and smiled. It held only a sliver of his former exuberant joy, but it was a good start. "I drove him crazy with my questions! I don't know how many times he despaired of me ever having what it takes to be SOLDIER 1st Class…"

"He was proud of you," Cloud said, suddenly shy to have been so familiar with an officer, even _if_ Zack refused to be acknowledged as such. "He would've done anything for you, I think. When he helped me figure some things out, he urged me to be more like you—I couldn't have a better model. At least, that's what Angeal seemed to think…"

Zack smiled again and ruefully ruffled Cloud's soft, spiky hair.

"Thank you, Cloud," he said, and lifted his face as if seeking something in the dark sky above the helicopter's whirring rotors. "He was so proud, so honorable…I can do no less."

Cloud stayed silent, unwilling to intrude on Zack's silent communion.

"You're a good kid, Cloud," he said, looking at the boy again, his eyes less despairing, though the heavy sorrow would never really leave them. "You did well today, considering—things wouldn't have gone half so well without your help. I tell you what, Cloud: you try out for SOLDIER, and if you make it I'll be your mentor."

Cloud swallowed hard, shocked by this unexpected honor.

"Sir, I—"

"Zack," the youth corrected, smiling sadly. "Just Zack. I think Angeal would like for me to watch out for you, Cloud. You made an impression, too."

Cloud blushed, his suspicions that Angeal had spoken of him confirmed.

"He didn't say anything specific," Zack murmured, sensing his discomfit. "Only that an MP, Private Cloud Strife, was having a hard go of things, and if I ever saw you about I should try to help you a bit. He seemed to think he was responsible for something that happened to you in Wutai, but he'd never tell me what it was."

"It was nothing," Cloud whispered, the same answer he'd given Genesis. "I'm honored, Zack—I'll enroll in the next rush."

Zack smiled at him once more, though this time it hardly overcame his sadness. Sighing, the young man hung his head again and whispered, "Angeal…forgive me…"

Cloud watched him while he silently grieved, powerless to offer him any comfort outside of his own silent, watchful presence. But for Zack, it seemed to be enough.


	36. Chapter 36

**Okay, I've waited long enough to put these chapters up here, and you all have waited long enough for your smut! So, get prepared, because I'm dumping it all on you right away. And, just in case you didn't notice, I mark all my juicy chapters with (!)**

* * *

Cloud wasn't sure what to do.

That in itself was not a new situation for him, but the task at hand seemed out of his range of ability, and he wished he could speak to Zack. The young man had been parceled off to enjoy some "vacation time" in Costa del Sol, though he had seemed less than pleased to be going. Still, as Cloud weighed the pouch Genesis had given him in the palm of his hand, he once more wished either Zack or Angeal—gone now, and gone for good—were here to tell him what to do, or even to take it out of his hands completely.

It was wishful thinking on his part. Had either of them been there, he still would not have given away responsibility for what Genesis had given him. It was part of his promise, part of his nature to obey—Genesis had instructed him to give the "gift" to Sephiroth, and Cloud could only ever do as he was told. To foist it off on someone else would put Sephiroth at risk for scrutiny and, possibly, investigation for complicity in Genesis defecting from Wutai.

Cloud held the pouch and took a deep, steadying breath. He'd not seen or heard from Sephiroth since he'd fled the man's apartment several months ago, and felt that he would be unwelcome at any cost, even as a delivery boy for his now-dead friend and self-proclaimed enemy.

Squaring his strong, rather broad shoulders, Cloud tucked the pouch into a fold of his uniform and strode to the checkpoint on the Officer's Floor with a confidence he simply didn't feel. The MP on duty there, a Master Sergeant, scowled at him when he approached, clearly ready to send the low-ranking MP on his way with a thorough ass-chewing.

"Master Sergeant," Cloud said, standing at stiff parade rest to forestall the man's tirade. "I'm here for General Sephiroth."

The man snorted with derision, the other Sergeant on duty joining him.

"Get out of here, private," he said, waving Cloud away. "I've pulled duty on this floor every three days for two years and the General has _never_ had a visitor who wasn't in SOLDIER."

"I have a delivery for him," Cloud said, keeping his face blank and his posture rigid.

"Leave it," the man snapped, gesturing at the desk. "We'll see it gets to him…after we examine it, of course."

"But, Master Sergeant, I—"

"You wanna talk back to me, private, I suggest you do it from the front lean and rest," the Master Sergeant told him.

Cloud's mouth tightened but he shifted to do as he was told, ready to push all day long if it meant not having them rifle through something that was private in nature. He was half hoping that Sephiroth wouldn't even be home, putting off the inevitable for another day.

"Sergeant, are you screening my visitors?"

They all snapped to attention, except for Cloud, who kept himself braced on stiff arms. Thanks to his weight training, he could hold the position for quite awhile before tiring, and was determined to do just that.

"Sir!" the man said, obviously shocked. "This private is just jesting, Sir! He has no business being on this floor—"

"I believe _I_ will decide who does and does not disturb me, Sergeant," Sephiroth said, his cool, bored voice stilling their protests. "Private Strife, recover and come with me."

Cloud got to his feet and moved past the glaring Sergeants with his eyes lowered, hoping they wouldn't see fit to take their ire out on him vicariously through his chain of command. He stared at the back of Sephiroth's leather coat as he followed the man down the hallway towards his apartment.

"You're lucky, I was just on my way in," Sephiroth told him, his tone neutral but not welcoming.

Feeling guilty for intruding, knowing he wasn't wanted anywhere _near_ the great General, Cloud softly said, "I have something to give you, Sir."

"Do you, now?" Sephiroth asked, amused. He stopped at his doorway and crossed his arms, turning to face Cloud. "Look at me when you speak to me, Private."

Cloud looked up and focused on the apex of those straps that crossed Sephiroth's chest—token acquiescence. Nothing short of a direct order could make him look up into that beautiful, cold face to see the faint distaste there.

"What is it that required you breaching the Officer Floor?" Sephiroth asked. He knew Cloud well enough to realize that the boy must consider it dire indeed to risk returning to a place he'd fled from all but naked. Once more, he felt that growing respect for Cloud rear its head and waited for the boy to struggle the words out.

"I will tell you inside, Sir," Cloud said, and got that mulish, obstinate look on his face that Sephiroth knew better than to argue with.

"Is it _private_, Cloud?" Sephiroth asked, and his tone implied that, perhaps, Cloud had come to throw himself back into Sephiroth's bed.

The boy flushed, offended, and turned on his heel.

"Don't trouble yourself, Sir," he said, stepping away. "I'm sure it isn't important after all."

"Don't you _dare_ walk away from me, Cloud Strife."

Cloud froze in his tracks, recognizing the dangerous purr for what it was. Sephiroth was a man who never forgot his position—it was over everyone else. Even in those rare moments of indulging Cloud's adolescent desires the man had never hesitated to pull rank on him.

"Don't forget who you are talking to, Private Strife," Sephiroth said, and was angry that it had so rapidly dissolved into discord. His natural arrogance had always assumed that, lacking the time to seek Cloud out, the boy would return to him of his own will. Cloud was a creature made for love, a creature that could not bear rejection and would return time and again in fruitless attempts to elicit the faintest of affections from those who spurned him. "Get inside."

Cloud turned slowly and stalked past Sephiroth, going no further inside than the foyer.

"Now," Sephiroth said, pausing to shut the door behind him. He locked it for good measure, not entirely sure that Cloud wouldn't flee as he had before. "What is it that you're so desperate to give me?"

Again, Cloud flushed, not missing the innuendo and ashamed that Sephiroth would think him so shallow, so _useable_. He fished out the pouch and held it out at arm's length, unwilling to get any closer to that large, predatory man, not wanting to be snared by his charisma and be left once more as a castoff.

"What's this?" Sephiroth asked, eying it warily.

"Sir, while in Modeoheim in search of Angeal, Genesis, and Doctor Hollander I was confronted by Genesis," Cloud said, keeping his words clipped and to the point. He was so angry he forgot to be self-conscious about his stilted habit of speaking, and the words came out smoothly, if not with an edge of angry heat. "He wanted me to give you this as his thanks for giving him a head start when he defected."

Sephiroth gazed at him with dangerous, half-lidded eyes, his face emotionless. He could have been carved of marble, he was so still—but it was the taut stillness of a cobra coiled to strike.

"Be careful what you say, Cloud," he finally murmured, the warning clear. "Such seditious and slanderous words could quickly end your attachments to ShinRa."

"The truth is what it is," Cloud said, still holding the bag out. He hadn't forgotten a single second of being in Sephiroth's home, in Sephiroth's _bed_, and the memories were as painful as they were sweet. He still had enough child in him to long for the man's attention, but enough jaded experience to know that such longing was futile. "Whatever you wish to do with it is no business of mine."

"What else, Cloud?" Sephiroth asked, watching him with those hooded jade eyes. "What else did Genesis bid you do?"

Cloud frowned, thrusting the pouch towards him impatiently as he answered, "Keep my secrets, Sir. He asked me to keep my secrets, for your sake and for his."

Sephiroth considered his words for a moment before taking the pouch from him, his gloved fingers light and graceful.

Once Cloud was unburdened of his task, he moved to the door and waited expectantly for Sephiroth to dismiss him.

"At ease, Private," Sephiroth murmured, holding the pouch in one hand, the other undoing the knots. He knew those knots, Genesis delighted in them—he'd made a study of tying knots as a child and it was a game he'd carried into adulthood, much to the consternation of his unsuspecting lovers…Still, it meant that Cloud had not attempted to pry, and that strangely pleased Sephiroth. "You didn't look, Cloud?"

"No, Sir," Cloud said, his displeasure at being detained apparent in the tone of his voice. "It's nothing to do with me."

Sephiroth, however, knew it had _everything_ to do with Cloud once he finally got the pouch open. As well as knots, magic had been another passion of Genesis's, almost rivaling his passion for Loveless. He was one of the few men Sephiroth had known who could Summon without the aid of materia and had actually mastered several esoteric techniques that dated back to the mysterious Cetra. Inside the pouch was a small orb, a quarter of the size of most materia, and it glowed with a soft blue light not unlike Cloud's eyes in passion or anger. Sephiroth unfurled the coiled piece of paper upon which Genesis's flowing, dramatic script revealed, "_My Dearest Enemy and Bitter Friend, Sephiroth—this should please your rather dominating side. I could think of no better thanks to you for keeping your word than to deliver into your hands a means to bind your_ Eromenos _to you. I know that if you were to envy anything about me, it would be my ability to use magic for my own ends, and I give it now to you. Play nicely with your toys, Sephiroth, however unbreakable they may seem. Genesis_"

Sephiroth hefted the small orb in his left hand, feeling its sluggish, sleepy response. Below Genesis's note were instructions for the orb's use—a way to brand a permanent mark of ownership on another human being. Sephiroth wondered how many of Genesis's devoted lovers had sported his mark, and how many of them had returned to him out of the mark's compulsive nature instead of honest desire. Then again, what did it matter so long as they returned? He knew Genesis would not have cared about the difference.

He looked at Cloud standing stiff and hurt and angry near the doorway, his young face tight with irritation and shame at Sephiroth's innuendos. Giving the boy time to lick his wounds had clearly not been the best idea, though Sephiroth had been too busy to do otherwise. Why would Genesis think he would _want_ to mark Cloud as his own? Surely he kept his personal feelings better hidden than _that_?

A look at Cloud's taut, unhappy face let him know that he did, indeed, keep his personal feelings well hidden. Perhaps so well that Private Cloud Strife would rather step off of a fifty-storey building than allow himself to be touched again.

'_Am I a _joke_ to you_?'

'_You are not a joke to me, no—you are a_ possession_, and I will use you as I see fit…and you will allow it because you have no choice in the end_.'

A possession.

Perhaps Genesis was more perceptive than he'd realized.

"You might as well come away from the door, Cloud," Sephiroth told him, bundling the pouch back up and putting it securely into the inner lining of his long coat. "There are things we need to discuss, I think."

Cloud once more managed to faintly surprise the stoic, reserved General. He finally shifted those big blue eyes to Sephiroth's own and said with barely contained heat, "I think _not_, _Sir_."

And he began to angrily, efficiently unlock Sephiroth's door.


	37. Chapter 37

Cloud concentrated on throwing the bolts open, so fundamentally hurt and angry that he didn't even register Sephiroth moving behind him. The man was utterly unbelievable, treating Cloud as he did, and the youth refused to stand for it a moment longer.

He drew the last lock and twisted the handle, yanking the door open with no little force.

It slammed closed and stayed that way, held in place by Sephiroth's gloved hand.

They stood there, the boy facing the door, furious, the man leaning against it from behind him, covering his surprise with his usual cool disdain.

"Well," he said, breaking the long silence. "At least this time you aren't nude as a grape."

"No thanks to you," Cloud snapped. Once upon a time he would've been appalled at himself for back-talking the General—now it only served to make him more upset. "Move."

Sephiroth made a soft little "tsk" noise at him and shook his head, his long hair floating softly against Cloud's back, tickling through the thin cloth of his uniform. "Is that any way to speak to a General, Cloud?"

"No," the boy said, his anger making his words short and clipped. "But you aren't behaving as a General, _Sir_."

Sephiroth drew in a soft breath behind him and then growled, "Watch your mouth—I have limits to my patience."

"So do I!" the youth said, turning around to face him, despite how much it hurt to look at him, to remember what he'd done so willingly, all of their moments together crowding his mind and mocking him with his easy capitulation. Genesis's casual use of the word _Master_ had not escaped Cloud, and it burned him to know that it was, in fact, quite true—no matter how he tried, no matter what he promised himself, all Sephiroth ever had to do was crook a finger at him and Cloud would fall to his knees and beg…_literally_.

Sephiroth gazed down at him with shining jade eyes that sparked with sudden heat, glowing in the dim half-light that seemed to pervade his home. They were so close that the edges of his coat lapped against Cloud's knees and the long strands of his hair wisped against him with maddeningly light touches. With the height difference they were standing nose to clavicle, but Cloud's upturned, mutinous face and blazingly angry blue eyes more than made up for his lack. He looked feral as the beast Sephiroth knew to be hiding within him, and more than just a little dangerous in his fury. Angry animals were unpredictable, Sephiroth knew, and Cloud was no exception.

"Such a temper," he murmured, smiling softly, seeing recognition light those bright blue eyes when Cloud recalled the previous time Sephiroth had said such to him. "Would it soothe your wounded pride to know that you affect me as much as I affect you, Cloud Strife?"

Cloud blinked at him, unwilling to be drawn in by such an obvious trap, no matter how sweet the bait.

"That isn't possible, General," Cloud said, forcing the words past his clenched teeth. "I would not flatter myself to think that I affect you in the least. Please, let me leave."

"In such a state of agitation?" Sephiroth asked, amusement floating in his voice. He gave a lazy flick of his fingers to the topmost bolt and murmured, "I think not, Cloud. Stop throwing a tantrum and come away from the door."

"Sir—"

"_Now_, Strife," Sephiroth said, and turned his back on him, half expecting the irate young man to leave anyway.

Glaring at him, Cloud moved away from the door, his sinewy arms crossed over his wide chest.

Sephiroth appraised him, his vision better in the dim light than in the strong fluorescents of the hall. He hadn't noticed before, but Cloud had grown in more ways than just his temper. He was taller than Sephiroth remembered, and clearly had put on muscle mass that gave him the sinewy grace of a slinky, lithe cat. Though his face had always been beautiful, it was moreso now that he'd lost that last bit of baby roundness from his cheeks, and his eyes seemed even larger now in comparison with the high hollows of his perfect cheekbones. Even marred by obstinance, Cloud was by far the most beautiful person Sephiroth had ever known, male or female.

"Come here, Cloud."

Those blue eyes flicked to him, narrowing slightly.

"_No_."

Sephiroth felt a flicker of irritation at being denied. People did not simply tell him _no_, it was outside of his range of experience and he didn't like it one whit.

"Cloud Strife, come to me this instant," he sharply said, seating himself in one of the parlor settees with all of the regal grace of a monarch. He'd never had use for the room before, and had always been rather irritated by the décor the President's assistant had used, but he found the seat to his liking and it would serve his purpose as Cloud was as likely to get near his bed as he was to walk head first into oncoming traffic.

Frowning, Cloud came closer but stayed out of reach, knowing to the millimeter the range of Sephiroth's long, graceful arms.

Sephiroth regarded him, beautiful and righteous in his teenaged anger, stubbornly clinging to his fury and unwilling to bend even a fraction. Compared to the gentle, yielding child of just months ago, the change was drastic but strangely compelling.

"Why did you run from me?" he asked.

"Why didn't you chase me?" Cloud countered, yet it served as an answer. Damaged pride had prevented Sephiroth from chasing him, and damaged pride had sent Cloud fleeing like a rabbit.

"Angeal tended you," Sephiroth murmured, waving away the incident, though he himself had brought it up.

Cloud arched an eyebrow at him, a hint of his old nervous habits showing through in the way he stiltedly answered, "It was more than you offered."

Sephiroth's eyes narrowed as an unwelcome and unexpected spurt of jealousy touched him.

"What else did he offer you, Cloud?"

Mortified, Cloud gave him a disbelieving look, his eyes filling with suspicious brightness as he warbled, "Is that it, Sir? Because I let you take me, I let _anyone_ take me? He calmed me and fed me and made sure I was alright, that's _all_! Whatever you may think of me, Sir, I'm _not_ a whore—even if I may still _smell_ like one!"

He ended on a snarl, his white teeth bared and those threatening tears shimmering in his eyes. He was horrified by Sephiroth's subtle accusation, appalled that he would besmirch the memory of someone he claimed as a friend—and for what? For a boy he rejected time and again? For a _possession_ which he would use as he saw fit? And, insult to injury, he actually thought that Cloud might have allowed such a proposition to be made, even _welcomed_ it!

"I can't believe you," he said, his voice small and hurt as the anger drained out of him. His strong little shoulders slumped, even the wild spikes of his hair seemed to bow under the weight of his sorrow. "I just…I can't _believe_ you…"

Shaking his head, Cloud moved again for the door, sickened by the whole exchange.

"Cloud," Sephiroth said, alarmed by the defeat he saw etched on the youth's drawn little face. He surged to his feet, ready to stop him by force if necessary. He hadn't reckoned the weight his unthinking comment had carried, though his history with Cloud should have taught him to be circumspect. That odd assurance inside him knew without a doubt that if Cloud made it through the door he would never return under any circumstances and that his hurt would harden into hate. Despite everything, he had not lost that odd desire to keep Cloud safe from harm, to see him happy and at peace. With no other recourse left him, he simply whispered, "Please don't go."

It was raw with unnamed emotion, with things Sephiroth was not used to and had no comfort dealing with. It was spontaneous and utterly unbidden. It was an echo of the hurt which Cloud felt every time someone looked through him like he wasn't there, spoke around him, wished him dead or gone or both.

And, despite his best intentions, it was enough to stop Cloud in his tracks.


	38. Chapter 38!

Cloud slumped against the door, his hand falling from the bolt, his big eyes closing in defeat. So, this was what it was like to be enslaved…he never expected it to be so strangely sweet or so painfully bitter. Yet how could he resist such a soft request? It was his nature to bend, to yield, and Sephiroth had always had such a strong hold on him, ever knowing just what to do or say to bring Cloud's defenses crashing down around him. Even though he was fully dressed, Cloud still felt naked and vulnerable. '_Please_,' he'd said, and that single word had ripped the scab off of Cloud's wounded emotions, leaving them raw and pulsing with fever.

Gloved hands came to rest lightly on his shoulders, trembling slightly as if Cloud did, indeed, affect the General as much as he'd claimed. Or perhaps it was nerves after all, there had been no mistaking the appalled, shocked look on Sephiroth's face when he'd whispered, '_Please don't go_.'

Cloud shook his head and pressed against the door, eyes squeezed closed in a childish game—if I can't see you, you can't see me, and if you can't see me then you can't hurt me.

Sephiroth pulled him away from the door and back into the feverish heat of his tall, muscled body, those long arms folding around him in an unexpected embrace.

Cloud swallowed a low sob and twisted, burying his face in the smooth, warm skin of Sephiroth's exposed chest, the edges of his coat curling against Cloud's cheeks. His own gloved hands clenched in that leather coat, bunching it at his hips. The scent of his skin was intoxicating, the soft brush of his long hair unbearably ephemeral. One of Sephiroth's hands came to rest at the base of Cloud's skull, cupping his head, the other smoothing down his strong, taut back.

He'd _missed_ Sephiroth—missed the impersonal brush of his fingers, missed being able to look at his stern, cool face so unaffected by anything around him. He missed something deeper, as well, something _secret_. He missed the unguarded and overwhelming emotion that showed on Sephiroth's face when he was so deep inside Cloud it felt like he'd be ripped apart. He _did_ affect Sephiroth, and with a true slave's devotion he would violently and jealously guard against ever allowing that ability to harm the one he…

Cloud jerked hard in Sephiroth's embrace, startled and suddenly chilled to the depths of his soul.

"Hush, Cloud," Sephiroth sighed, mistaking his sudden shock for renewed resistance. "Be still awhile yet."

Eyes huge with discovery, Cloud knew now why Sephiroth could draw him back again and again—it wasn't merely his own natural inclination to please, nor his obedient habit of doing as he was bidden. It was _love_.

And it was as awful as it was consuming.

Cloud whimpered against Sephiroth's soft skin, pressing harder against him, already mourning their next schism. Sephiroth responded by tightening his hold on Cloud, half convinced that the boy would make a break for the door and disappear from his life forever.

He lifted Cloud's chin, looking down into his beautiful, anxious, and sorrowful face. For a moment Cloud was sure Sephiroth would kiss him and all would be lost, but he did something so much worse instead.

He dropped his sleek, silver-haired head to Cloud's throat and breathed, "Stop running from what you are…"

Cloud blinked hard, his voice unsteady when he whispered, "I don't _know_ what I am!"

Sephiroth pulled back to look at him. He was so beautiful, a perfect statue carved of marble with half-lidded jade eyes gazing serenely out from lush black lashes. When he smiled at Cloud the boy's heart skipped painfully in his chest, and his cheeks flamed with heat when the man murmured, "You're _mine_."

That cruel, warm mouth descended to his own, kissing him with a possessive heat that curled Cloud's toes and liquefied his bones. He lifted his hands to clutch the open edges of Sephiroth's coat, his arms tucked tightly between them. He hadn't expected any apologies, any remorse—it was always such with the General. He made no excuses, offered no explanations. Cloud was his creature, bending to his whims and used at his convenience. It should have offended Cloud but it was something that his very nature made him comfortable with. He would give and give and give until he had nothing left to offer, and Sephiroth would take without asking until Cloud had filled his purpose. Neither one of them expected remorse on the other's part. They would come together and draw apart with the same rhythmic surety as waves lapping the beach—it was simply the way of things, and could never be changed.

Cloud let that hot tongue invade his mouth, opened wide to allow the man all the heat and access that he demanded. Those strong hands swept down to cup his bottom, curving up to heft him with a soft grunt of effort. Cloud automatically locked his legs around Sephiroth's narrow hips, suddenly heated and aching for his touch.

"How you've grown, Cloud," Sephiroth breathed, still sucking on his mouth, his hands clenching hard in the taut muscle of Cloud's bottom. "My beautiful little private, so angry and so sweet…"

Cloud kissed him back, desperate to feel him, the void inside him greedily filling itself on the sight of him, the feel of him, the scent of his skin and the sound of his voice. They were stores to see him through the hungry times when Sephiroth's indifference and Cloud's own untamed emotions would part them.

The man hefted Cloud more securely into his arms and carried him down the long hallway to the bedroom.

They fell onto the bed together in a tangled heap, Cloud wrapped around Sephiroth like a slim, determined vine, trading ravenous kisses and panting in the darkness. Only the faint light from the open door to the hallway illuminated the room, turning them both into shadows and highlights, strangers once more.

Cloud was burning up with need, breathless as Sephiroth yanked off his gloves and then Cloud's own, turning his clever fingers to freeing Cloud of his boots and clothing. The youth writhed impatiently, his dark despair making this meeting that much sweeter, that much more intense. When Sephiroth stripped before him it was the most beautiful, amazing thing that he'd ever seen, and he didn't have the presence of mind or even the patience to feel embarrassed. He simply gazed at Sephiroth with all of his newfound love showing in his softly glowing blue eyes and waited, his hands curled into the covers and kept well away.

Sephiroth's hands preceded him, sliding up the smooth, muscled length of Cloud's legs, still coltish yet for all of his growth. Cloud shuddered hard at the gliding touch, his flushed erection twitching, eager for what it could get. Sephiroth's hands curved over his hips, thumbs sliding alongside Cloud's hard sex. He bent and moved between Cloud's spread legs, his breath spilling over Cloud's taut sac.

The youth cried out and arched hard when the man's tongue touched him, trailing up over his balls, sliding into the crease of his groin to tease around the base of his aching cock. That tongue skimmed lightly up his belly, Cloud moaning in frustration.

Sephiroth's uneven breath pulsed against his skin as he kissed his way up Cloud's slender ribcage, first one side and then the other, marking the changes that such a short time had wrought in his young private. He sucked at Cloud's skin, at his pert nipples, at his smooth, moist neck. He reached down between their bodies as he lay atop him and cupped his hot erection before giving it a hard slap that bowed Cloud's back and made him clench his teeth, the beast rising in his bright blue eyes.

"Oh-_ho_," Sephiroth whispered, amused. "You have grown, indeed, Cloud."

The young man was too far gone in pleasure to be embarrassed by Sephiroth's gentle teasing about his now-admirable erection. The slap sang through his senses, begging harder and more violent pleasures that he knew Sephiroth would be able to provide.

He writhed beneath that big body, driven to the limits of his patience by the man's nearness and the incredible, throbbing size of his heavy sex. Lacking the ability to touch the man with his hands—he would _never_ forget that painful, awful lesson—Cloud used his mouth instead and wriggled against Sephiroth, using his tongue and lips instead of questing fingers.

The man held himself still, allowing Cloud to taste his throat, his nape, the lobes of his ears, down to his collarbone and sensitive nipples to the dip of his belly button. Of his own accord, Cloud closed his mouth around Sephiroth's sticky head and gave a deep, eager suck that caused the man to catch his breath, one hand tangling in Cloud's hair.

"So eager," he purred, urging Cloud to suck. "Touch me, Cloud. Put those hands on me."

Ever obedient, Cloud unclenched his hands and softly stroked the man's length as he sucked, moving one hand in tandem with his mouth, the other drifting down to cup and roll his heavy balls. His eyes watered from gagging on the thick flesh each time he swallowed it down, but he wouldn't exchange a second of it—seeing Sephiroth stretched out in the shadows, highlighted by the hallway light, his big body curving in pleasure and his eyes closed, face unguarded…it was more special to Cloud than anything else could ever possibly be.

Sephiroth's eyes snapped open with a particularly powerful spasm of his thick sex and he reached down to haul Cloud off of him, breathing hard. He stared at Cloud for a long, heavy moment before rolling away.

For an awful moment Cloud was sure that he was drawing away again, but his fears died quickly when Sephiroth bent to open his nightstand drawer and slather his strutted cock with something that glimmered in the faint light.

"Come here, Cloud," the man said, indicating the carpet before him.

Cloud slithered off of the bed and turned his back to Sephiroth, gasping a little when two slippery fingers slid up inside him, pushing more slickness up with them.

"Do you want this, Cloud?" Sephiroth asked, wanting Cloud to admit with his own lips how badly he needed it.

"_Yes_," Cloud hissed, leaning forward and bracing his hands on the mattress. He moaned lowly when Sephiroth nudged against him, and wailed when he was filled.

It was unbearable. It was earth-shaking. It was too much and not enough all at once. He threw back his head and sobbed, hips lifting, straining back against the man's lean, powerful hips.

"I couldn't show you before," Sephiroth whispered, one strong hand clenching on Cloud's hip. He lay over the youth's slender back and lapped at Cloud's ear, teasing the earring there. "Now I can…"

He braced one arm on the bed, the other wrapped around Cloud's narrow waist.

One of Cloud's small hands came to rest on his braced forearm, the touch tentative but tight. The youth wriggled against him, impaled and rapturous, trying to work himself on Sephiroth's hard length.

Sephiroth tilted his hips just _so_ and thrust deeply into Cloud with a freedom of movement he'd not had last time.

The reaction was immediate and powerful. Cloud gasped in shock as Sephiroth's body bumped something inside him, awakening an amazing amount of absolute pleasure that Cloud had never dreamed existed.

"Sweet spot," Sephiroth murmured, and sank his teeth into Cloud's lobe as he surged hard against the youth's taut body, Cloud clinging desperately to him as his tight body tried to process this new and invasive pleasure.

He rocked in time with Sephiroth's deep thrusts, sobbing aloud and writhing with need, his ready cock pulsing and bouncing with the sway of his body, oozing precum and begging for friction. Cloud could've touched himself, but he wanted it to last, wanted to draw out this brief and treasured time with Sephiroth.

The man growled lowly above him, one knee rising to the bed next to Cloud's hip, giving him better leverage to use his strong back, and with good effect—Cloud screamed at the renewed force of his thrusts, gasping and moaning in shocked sensation, almost coming right then from the sheer painful pleasure of it.

Sephiroth grunted a little, swelling inside him in response to Cloud's obvious enjoyment, driven closer to the cusp by his slender, uninhibited lover. He reached around and slapped Cloud's straining cock again, sending the boy into such wild spasms that he had to pause his vigorous thrusts, nearly coming inside the youth when Cloud began to beg him to do it again, began to threaten with the beast's voice, to coax and cajole and demand more. He slapped him again, harder, and Cloud stiffened in something that was just a fine line away from orgasm, shoving back so hard against Sephiroth that the man had to hastily pull back for fear of spilling himself right then and there.

"You want pain, Cloud?" he asked, panting for breath. "I will give you pain."

Cloud writhed in an agony of pleasure, head hanging and cock throbbing in painful beats, so swollen and ready that even the faint breeze of Cloud's gasping breaths threatened to make him erupt. He felt Sephiroth's hand settle firmly at the small of his back just above the dimple of his bottom. A second later his other hand whipped around. Blazing pain erupted in Cloud's cock and the small of his back in such perfect synchronicity that he was lifted out of himself, transported by pleasure and dissolving into boneless, mindless enjoyment that made his body snap and shudder as if he'd been jolted by electricity. He didn't even feel Sephiroth's body burst inside him, wasn't aware of the man's frantic thrusts or his deep, satisfied groans. Cloud was caught in a web of exquisite pain, and shuddered in bliss as it echoed through his body.


	39. Chapter 39

Sephiroth breathed quietly in the darkness, admiring the play of the faint hallway light on Cloud's sleep-slackened face. His big eyes were closed, shutting down the strongest part of his natural draw, but his full pink mouth was parted softly and he looked compellingly vulnerable and touchable. Even without those big blue eyes to pull him in, Sephiroth found himself still watching him, and thinking of what had just occurred.

Impulse—that thing he had no basis in, that which revolted against the sheer orderly force of his entire being—had driven him to use the small orb that Genesis had given him and brand his mark into Cloud's back, giving the boy the pain he so needed to feel his pleasure to the fullest. Impulse had forced those soft words from his lips that had acted like a mental tether to Cloud, restraining him even when he only wished to escape. Impulse had lured his arms around his little lover and urged him to whisper to him, "You are mine." But, unlike the other rare, impulsive acts in his life, these had turned out for the best.

Cloud murmured in his sleep and rolled, one slim hand pawing at the air before landing on Sephiroth's chest where it curled a little and finally slid to rest against Cloud's belly. It was a strong little hand, the veins blue beneath his white skin, the knuckles slightly scarred from his training, the nails blunt and clean. Strong, and yet still so small, still in the process of becoming the man he would someday be.

Sephiroth took his time categorizing the changes in Cloud—the shoulders so much wider, the arms tight with lean muscle, the belly rippling. Though still coltish, his shockingly long legs were no longer awkwardly thin, but strung with taut muscle that showed clearly beneath his soft, touchable hide. There was a bruise here, a scrape on one knee, a healed scratch there…

And that mark, glowing in the gloom at the base of his perfect back. Sephiroth didn't need to roll him over to know it was still there, still glowing. It had burned like the brand it was when he'd first marked him, and had died down only a little since. Cloud had reached back to feel it once or twice, wondering what was throbbing there, but the mark left no raised skin, no sign it was even there except for that soft blue glow. Sephiroth, as familiar with his enemy as any one man can be, knew the mark for what it was—the graceful, handwritten character that, in Wutain, meant utter, blissful, and abject submission…most disturbingly, it was written in Genesis's flowing, dramatic calligraphy. It seemed strangely fitting that a man who had hated Wutai and its people so much would chose one of their own characters for binding his lovers to him. Sephiroth wondered how on earth he would ever explain it to Cloud, and realized that he had no intentions of trying. Barring another cadet telling him it was there, it was doubtful that Cloud would ever become aware of it.

He shifted against that small, warm body, his hair falling down around them both, the tickling touch of it making Cloud smile in his sleep. Sephiroth could give no name to what he experienced just then, laying in his tousled bed with Cloud tucked so warmly to him, sleeping with the utter abandon of one who knows himself safe. He'd resisted staying at first, had gone to the bathroom to clean up, made his excuses, and tried to slip away. But in another act of sheer impulse Sephiroth had stopped him and drawn him back to the bed. He hadn't spoken to Cloud, he hadn't even held him, but the boy had slowly relaxed at his side and finally fallen asleep, giving the stoic General this opportunity to touch him without fear of rousing Cloud's hopes.

"_Eromenos_," he murmured, wondering how Genesis had known. But, of course, his best friend had always had a dramatic romantic side, and had probably had great plans for Sephiroth where Cloud was concerned. He slid his hand under Cloud's strong little back and lifted, the boy's head falling back in a tumble of wild blond spikes. He murmured a protest in his sleep but Sephiroth settled him quickly, lifting Cloud to lie in the hollow of his arm, his head pillowed on Sephiroth's shoulder so that he could look down at him and breathe in his faint scent—ShinRa-issue soap, sex, a hint of sweat and something young and elusively _Cloud_. Those blue eyes fluttered, glowing softly in the gloom. "What are you, Cloud Strife?"

There was no answer. Cloud's eyes closed and he went back to sleep.

It was enough. Sephiroth would wait for him to wake once more, content for the time to just hold him and wish that things could always be so simple and uncomplicated. He nuzzled into Cloud's wild hair, relishing the softness of it, and closed his own jade eyes.

* * *

Cloud woke warm and content, curled up in the curve of Sephiroth's larger body, a pleasure he hadn't felt since those few nights in Wutai. He stayed still, relishing it, trying to memorize the exact feel of that broad chest against his back, the tight press of his muscled stomach, the warm crush of his groin snuggled firmly to Cloud's backside. Even his long legs were nestled to Cloud's, his entire body cupping the boy's smaller one, one heavy, graceful arm resting over his narrow waist, bent at the elbow so that his hand was loosely closed around the base of Cloud's throat. Cloud had hugged that arm to him in his sleep, and was in no hurry to let it go.

He knew Sephiroth was awake behind him. He'd never been able to do so much as flinch without the General noticing, and the man was too used to sleeping light with a wary eye for enemies to sleep though the restless shiftings of a boy coming out of sleep.

Cloud pressed back against him and heaved a heavy sigh, utterly content, though that odd, dull throb in his back was still there. Maybe he'd pulled something when he'd climaxed—it _had_ been rather powerful, and he was sure his screams were heard all the way at the Security Desk. He felt rather guilty, like he should've been ashamed of the fact that he was too satisfied to _be_ ashamed, but it all seemed like too much effort and he was too relaxed to worry overmuch with it.

"You slept the whole afternoon," Sephiroth said, and the low, husky purr of his whisper suited the darkness of his bedroom.

Cloud said nothing, just hugged that arm closer to him.

Sephiroth was silent again, having let Cloud know he was awake.

The boy wanted to roll over and face him, to talk to him, even to confess his most frightening secret yet, but he was too used to what always followed Sephiroth's heated touches—exile. He didn't want to rush the inevitable, didn't want to shatter this temporary peace between them.

He shifted a little, reaching to touch his back again, irritated by the tickling throb.

"Did I hurt you?" Sephiroth asked, and Cloud found something oddly _off_ about his question.

"I may have pulled something when I…you know," Cloud said, blushing and snaking his hand back around Sephiroth's arm. "It's fine. No problem."

There was silence for a little while again, both of them hesitant to push too much, to speak too much and possibly ruin this uneasy truce. Finally, Sephiroth said, "I am glad you were with Isaac when he went to Modeoheim, Cloud. He confided before he left for his recuperation that he was glad of your company. Apparently you were a comfort to him while his grief was still fresh."

"I hoped to be, Sir," Cloud said, pleased, and found nothing odd about using the formal title in such an intimate situation. The use of Zack's proper name had confused him for a second, but he was glad to know he was an Isaac and not a Zachary—it made him feel closer to the loveable SOLDIER. "It was difficult for him. He loved Angeal very much."

"It was mutual," Sephiroth murmured, the slow and steady beat of his heart a comforting rhythm at Cloud's back. "Angeal always had an eye for talent, and the patience of a saint…"

Cloud felt bolder, pleased that they had managed this much of a conversation without stooping to insults and tears. He wriggled back and felt Sephiroth's arm tighten, which only warmed him. Smiling into the darkness, he shyly confided, "Sir, Zack said that if I make it into SOLDIER then he would mentor me." He wasn't sure how well his statement would be received—he still felt that Sephiroth had no use for him, and would probably just remind him that he was too weak and small for SOLDIER.

After a long, tense moment, Sephiroth softly murmured, "Well, that _is_ an honor, Cloud."

Melting with delight at his easy acceptance, for once not burdened with Sephiroth's disdain, Cloud gave in to his impulse and rolled in Sephiroth's embrace to face him. In the darkness he was stark highlights and shadows, his cheekbones sharp and bold, the pools of his eyes filled with glowing jade and dilated pupils. Cloud had no doubt that Sephiroth could see him quite well despite the terrible lighting, and tried to recall any time he'd seen the man's pupils so wide instead of their usual snake-like slits.

"I never…" Cloud trailed off, not sure how to continue without either offending the General or making him laugh at Cloud's expense.

One of Sephiroth's perfect silver brows rose in question, the motion almost indistinguishable in the darkness. Cloud was glad of the lack of light—it made him feel less vulnerable, less _raw_.

"I never dreamed I'd be here, Sir," he murmured, flushing a little.

"In Midgar?" Sephiroth asked, and there was an interest in his voice that warmed Cloud.

"Yes," the boy sighed, his curled fists resting lightly against Sephiroth's chest. He _still_ would not touch him willingly, not without the man directly asking for it—that lesson had gone deep, had dragged to the fore memories that Cloud wanted to forget, memories of someone else who had scorned his touch. "I'm from Nibelheim…you may not know it—"

"I do," Sephiroth answered, his warm breath drifting over Cloud's cheek. "There is a Reactor there."

"And not much else," Cloud said, smiling wryly. He ducked his head under Sephiroth's chin, breathing steadily, pressed heart to thumping heart.

"Your family is there," the man reminded, and his statement made Cloud twitch.

"I don't have a family," Cloud said, his voice soft and sad.

Sephiroth was silent, watching him, no change in his embrace despite the fact that he knew Cloud was—for the first time in their history—lying to him.

Again, Sephiroth questioned him, and Cloud began to get the deep, wary, instinctive impression that the man was fishing for something, _looking_ for something. The man had never given the slightest hint of interest in Cloud's life before now, and Cloud was too wise to his ways to think that he might be suddenly developing an attachment to him—they were what they were, and Sephiroth could no more become a caring, loving individual than Cloud could become the President of ShinRa.

"What of you mother, Cloud? Does she know where you are?"

The boy forced down the uneasiness that the man's questions were causing him, trying desperately to convince himself that Sephiroth was _trying_, that _both_ of them were trying.

Swallowing hard, he whispered, "It's for the best, Sir. She'll do better without me, I think…Sometimes I want to write her, but I'm too scared…"

"You're of legal age now, Cloud," Sephiroth assured him. "She can't force you to return to your home."

"Not of that," Cloud breathed, ashamed of the fact that he was shaking.

"Then of what?" Sephiroth asked, and once again Cloud found an almost _cold_ interest beneath the question.

"I'm afraid that she won't write back," Cloud forced himself to admit. "You can always pretend in your heart that someone cares…so long as you don't have proof that they _don't_. I don't want proof, Sir. I don't write her."


	40. Chapter 40

Sephiroth found himself in the uwarranted position of interrogating his tender little lover, but he'd stumbled across a way to find out more concerning Cloud's past and the possible things that Hojo had probably done to him, and he couldn't resist. As one of those frightening people who almost utterly lacked a conscience, he pushed Cloud with his gentle, leading questions, and only a dim corner of his mind felt guilty at doing so. In his opinion, finding out what Cloud Strife _was_ overshadowed any remorse or reasons to stop.

Still, Cloud's soft answer surprised him, and he was shocked to find himself saddened by the boy's obvious anguish. He didn't write his mother because he feared that she would just ignore him, that instead of being parted on his own terms, Cloud would find himself utterly forgotten by a person who should have loved him dearly. Sephiroth had never had a mother himself, though he'd longed for one as a toddler, and had wished for one as a boy Cloud's age. Now, in his late twenties, he found the idea of a mother a wistful dream, a fleeting need, a wish that would never come true, but he'd always known that a Mother's love was the most pure and encompassing love a person could ever know.

"Why would you say such a thing, Cloud?" he asked, overcoming his sudden reluctance to ask.

The boy twitched again in his arms, distraught but bravely trying to hide it.

"She's better off without me, Sir," Cloud answered. "I only made her sad. She never forgave me after my father left…I've always hoped that with me being gone he would come home and she would be happy again."

"That's absurd," Sephiroth said, genuinely offended by what he'd just heard. He was beginning to get a better understanding of why Cloud was the way he was, why a child would live thinking he had to apologize to the world for existing. "Why on earth would she blame you for your father leaving?"

Cloud hesitated long enough that Sephiroth began to believe that he'd pushed too far and roused the child's suspicions, but Cloud was too conditioned to obey—he answered Sephiroth, though it was done in a voice which was strangely devoid of emotion.

"Well…he never…he never really liked me, Sir," he whispered, and there was such self-recrimination in his voice that Sephiroth very nearly told him to stop. He'd never dealt well with Cloud's emotions and had only just begun to stop pushing the boy away when he expressed them. Hearing Cloud's pain only provoked his need to protect him, and he truly wasn't sure if he could control his temper if Cloud relayed something truly horrible to him. The last thing that would comfort Cloud would be the brutal murder of his parents, however deserving they may be. "I think it was because I wasn't really his son…"

_That_ distracted Sephiroth from his growing ire. _Not_ Gideon Strife's son? Though brief, Cloud's history had been thorough, and no other adult male had lived in his mother's small house either before his birth or after it, so there was no chance that Cloud spoke of a stepfather or some lover of his mother's. He had noticed that Gideon Strife had disappeared around the time of Cloud's poisoning, but had attributed it to the fact that he'd needed to run from the authorities. At least Cloud's mother, though probably not the most loving woman, had come to her senses and chosen the life of her son in the end. Sephiroth found himself strangely grateful that she had. The world would be rather less interesting without prickly, proud, and vulnerable little Cloud in it...

"Why would you think such things, Cloud?" he asked, pressing on once more. He felt as if he was close to a revelation, that if Cloud could just provide him with the right information, he could unravel the mystery of what Hojo had done. "Did your mother give you any indication that it might be true?"

"No," Cloud said, uncertain. "But I remember what happened, I remember what he said. I got really sick when I was a baby—I probably shouldn't even remember back that far, but I guess you don't forget things like that. I think I was about four, maybe, or just a little younger. My mother wanted to take me to see a doctor—"

Sephiroth tensed, ears straining even though with his preternatural hearing he could hear the flick of the boy's eyelashes when he blinked.

"—but my father insisted we didn't have the money for it. One day when it was really bad she laid me down on the hearth to nap while she went to get me some medicine," Cloud went on, too absorbed in his memories to notice Sephiroth's predatory interest. "My father came home while she was gone. I remember him crying, he was so upset about something. I think now it was because of a bad harvest, there were several right in a row when I was little."

Sephiroth forced himself to relax, to listen, to glean what he could from Cloud opening up to him and hoping the boy would go into detail about the doctors, the medicine, _what they'd done to him_. There would be time to question him more closely as he had no intentions of letting Cloud go anywhere for some time.

"I was feverish still, sick to my stomach, hurting," Cloud droned, growing more and more toneless as he spoke. "When he passed by the hearth I cried for him to pick me up, but he wouldn't. When he sat down at the table, I went after him. I think I must've been delirious—my mother swears to this day that none of it ever happened—but I remember it so vividly…I tried to crawl into his lap but every time I touched him, he slapped my hands away…I've never been very smart, Sir—I kept trying and he told me to go hug my _real_ father and pushed me away. Then he just…_left_. My mother came back and realized he was gone. She cried so hard that her face turned all red, and she kept screaming at me, asking me what I'd done to make him leave, asking me why I had to ruin everything good in her life. She kept hugging me and then hitting me, like she couldn't make up her mind. She finally took me to see a doctor, and the whole way there all she could do was sob like her heart was broken and ask over and over why nothing ever went right, why nobody ever loved her, why she had to have a gods-cursed baby in the first place. I'd never seen her so scared, Sir."

Sephiroth had tightened his hold again, though neither of them noticed. Cloud's tale explained so much, and answered so little. The story—told with all the impersonal disinterest of one reciting dogma—struck a deep chord of sadness within him. For all that he'd had no parents, ShinRa had at least taken excellent care of him, and even Doctor Hojo, tyrant that he was, had not been unkind to him over the years. Though his childhood had been less than normal and certainly not perfect, at least he'd never had to grow up or exist in a place so contrary to his presence that he found himself wondering why he was even alive.

"She always blamed me," Cloud sighed, sounding worn out. "She pretended nothing ever happened, and any time I mentioned staying so long in the clinic she just laughed and said I was making things up. I asked her once if he wasn't my real father and she slapped me so hard I saw stars and then she sobbed for three days straight. I felt like such a jerk for asking that I never brought it up again. I made her miserable, Sir. I made my father leave us, and she's never stopped blaming me. At least with me gone they can be happy together. It's for the best."

"That's terrible, Cloud," Sephiroth whispered, and flinched when the boy replied.

"I know," he murmured, ashamed, just naturally assuming that the man was referring to the fact that he'd driven his own father away. "I guess it's no excuse, Sir, but I've never been very good with people—I just wish like everything that I hadn't been so…well, that I hadn't made him leave her. When I was smaller, when she would spend days crying and begging the gods for him to return, I would wish that I hadn't gotten better at all. Maybe, if it had been soon enough after he'd left, he'd have come home."

"No, Cloud," Sephiroth said, and his firm tone reached the boy much better than any soft, whispered love-words. Sephiroth wouldn't have known how to use them at any rate. "It's terrible how they treated you."

Cloud's blue eyes sparkled, not glowing with their faint blue light but picking up the light from the hall. They were huge and sad and utterly convinced, steadfast in the assurance of years spent atoning for the accidental sin of having been born.

"No, Sir," he breathed, shaking his head a little. "It was only what I deserved."


	41. Chapter 41

Cloud's soft revealing of his background cast a pall on what otherwise might have been something rather more comfortable, but Sephiroth had only himself to blame for pushing Cloud to answer him. And still he had not heard that information he sought—Cloud's memories of being in Hojo's care.

"Cloud," he said, rolling the solemn, thoughtful boy more fully against his chest. "You said you spent a long time at the clinic? How sick were you? Did your mother ever speak of it?"

"No, Sir," Cloud answered, still looking a bit suspicious of his interest. "She swears she never took me. At first she just told me that I was only there for a few days, but then as I got older she started to say it never happened at all…she's like that, Sir. It's hard for her to keep things straight."

Well, leave it to Hojo to find an addle-witted female to work his science on.

Sephiroth sighed heavily, realizing that he wouldn't get what he needed from Cloud's confused and distant memories.

"Can we talk about something else, Sir?" Cloud asked, snuggling to him.

Sephiroth said nothing, wondering how on earth he could get his hands on those files and how important Cloud really _was_ to Hojo in the long run. He'd apparently been content to leave Cloud alone for ten years and wasn't too interested in tracking him down. He'd made frequent attempts at first, but even those had trickled down to nothing. Still, Sephiroth was sure he hadn't mistaken the genius gleam in the man's eye—when Cloud Strife came up, Hojo was interested, the end. It was enough to make Sephiroth worry, and worrying was one of the few things he did not bear with grace.

Cloud lay snuggly in his arms for awhile longer, neither of them really knowing what to say. The uncomfortable moment refused to pass, and the boy eventually rolled out of the bed with a soft murmur, a vague excuse.

Sephiroth allowed it, his mind on other things. He kept thinking of how pleased Cloud had been to relate Isaac's interest in him, his promise to mentor him. Cloud couldn't do better, Sephiroth knew—Zack would show him the same care and concern that Angeal would…But Zack was still a wild card, still rather impulsive and prone to rash decisions based more on his honor than on any foresight. The chance that he might involve Cloud in something outside of his range of ability was as good as the chance that he would keep him back, and it made the General rethink his original stance on the plan.

He idly watched Cloud dressing, his movements sure and graceful. Always such a graceful boy, even back when he was coltish and unfinished. For all of the growing that he'd done, Cloud was a child still, and Sephiroth strove to keep that in mind. He couldn't expect Cloud to know what was best for himself, couldn't put faith in the fact that Cloud would know when to advance and when to retreat. He had surprised the General more than once this day, not the least of which was his newfound determination to tolerate no nonsense from anyone. That confidence and resolve heartened the General, provided it wasn't used to his disadvantage, but it did nothing to allay the greater issue of his still being young and immature…

"Sir?"

Sephiroth shook his head, belatedly realizing that Cloud had asked him a question and was nervously awaiting his reply.

"Yes, Strife?" he asked, sitting up and casting about for his clothing.

"I said, 'Do you want me to go now, Sir?'" the boy repeated.

"If you wish," Sephiroth told him, dressing quickly. "I do have some work to do, Cloud—but you won't trouble me if you would prefer to stay. I'm afraid there is very little in my home to entertain you…"

Cloud's face fell, the youth finding some hidden urging to leave in Sephiroth's sentence.

Sephiroth noticed it, and finished lacing his pants, saying, "But I would not mind you staying, Cloud. I can return you to your barracks later this evening."

Cloud flushed, whether from relief or shame Sephiroth had no idea, but he lingered there before him, waiting for him to finish dressing. He kept his beautiful, thoughtful face downcast, still wounded from his shaming confession, and Sephiroth found himself wishing all manner of ill on Cloud's parents.

He went to his study and seated himself behind his computer, Cloud trailing him, looking lost.

"There's a television in the living room, if you'd like to watch it," he offered, not sure what the boy really expected of him. He never had people stay in his apartment for any length of time and never one whom he'd slept with. "I have no idea if it works or not, I don't pay any attention to those idiot things."

Cloud gave him a soft smile and sighed, "That's okay, Sir. I can just go."

Sephiroth looked at him, once more sensing that Cloud was waiting for something. Reassurance? A rebuke? Some confirmation that all was well?

"Is something the matter, Cloud?" he asked, wanting to be told and deal with it instead of having to stare it out of him. He wasn't a creature of patience by any means.

Cloud's big blue eyes flicked up to his with a flash of submissive craving, but the look was gone as swiftly as it had come, replaced by that blank and impersonal mask that had assaulted Sephiroth merely hours ago in his hallway.

"No, Sir," he said, his voice stiff. "Nothing at all."

Sephiroth frowned, frustrated with trying to puzzle him out. Finally, he just shortly said, "You realize that things have changed, Cloud."

"Yes, Sir."

"Whatever you may think of my motives, whatever is currently fluttering around in that head of yours, you must understand this," Sephiroth said, and his discomfort with such things translated to a formal, abrupt tone. "You will come here again, Cloud. This will not be the last time. If I have to come to your barracks room and drag you out by that amusing hair of yours, you will find yourself back in my home, back in my bed. Is that clear?"

"Crystal, Sir," Cloud breathed, but his big blue eyes sparkled with pleasure and his stiff reserve was replaced by barely concealed happiness.

"Good," Sephiroth said, unsettled by his sudden and fascinating shifts in mood. Having had enough of emotionally unstable underage lovers for one day, he waved his hand at the boy and said, "Then go. I will find you when I need you."

Cloud hesitated long enough for Sephiroth to lift both eyebrows in impatient inquiry.

"And if _I_ need _you_, Sir?" he asked, and the husky tone of his voice very nearly put Sephiroth off of work and veered his thoughts sharply towards the bed they'd just vacated.

"Then you wait on my pleasure, Cloud," he answered him, and saw the boy shudder in something like joy. "Possessions are made to be enjoyed, Private Strife—not made for the purpose of their own enjoyment."

"Yes, Sir," the boy meekly answered, but he still exuded that fierce happiness. Without another word he went for the door, and Sephiroth heard his light footsteps as he ran from his apartment once more, this time in bliss instead of misery.

Shaking his head over the mysterious inner workings of the teenage mind, Sephiroth buzzed the security desk and gave his permission for Cloud to pass by without an escort. That taken care of, he opened his latest mail to see what ill had befallen SOLDIER while he was otherwise engaged.


	42. Chapter 42

Sephiroth thought that, perhaps, fate was playing some kind of awful prank on him. And since he did not appreciate pranks of any kind from either red-headed Turks or irrepressible, spiky-haired SOLDIER pups, Sephiroth was not inclined to look kindly on _this_ one, either.

The first business matter he'd encountered after Cloud's departure was a TACREP detailing some unfortunate business that had gone down in that little backwater Cloud called home. Two MPs had disappeared and the junior SOLDIER who had been in charge of the seemingly simple operation had been found in a mangled heap near the reactor.

Unfortunately, the mangled SOLDIER was none other than SOLDIER 3rd Class Dai, so new to the program that the shine hadn't even worn off yet. It had been his first solo mission, a routine run, something so simple a child could have done it—and _had_. Dai had only been seventeen at the time of his death. Unforeseen circumstances had resulted in the loss of a potentially excellent SOLDIER and the Turks were currently busying about taking care of the leftover mess.

But it got him to thinking.

He didn't particularly care about Dai—he'd known the boy in a disinterested way, and only enough to be rather annoyed by his hero-worship of Angeal. Sephiroth had no trouble with worship of any kind, but have the good grace to not make a spectacle of yourself, thank you very much. He detested excesses of emotion more than almost anything, though he managed to somehow leave Cloud (and even _himself_) miraculously outside of those equations. Still, he knew that Cloud had been close with Dai and would be hurt by his loss. Perhaps Sephiroth was simply growing cold in his old age.

Perhaps it was because the impudent little shit had paid a whore to bed his Cloud.

_Surely_ he was not so petty?

Petty or not, the boy's death only bothered him insofar that it meant he was down one more SOLDIER, and their numbers really couldn't withstand _any_ depletion at the current time.

It came to him, though, that it could very easily have been _Cloud_ in that situation. _Cloud_ who was now dead and gone, his corpse even now being shuttled to some furnace in Junon to be disposed of without trouble. _Cloud_, hurting and alone with no one to protect him.

The realities of what he and all SOLDIERs were had never seemed so crisp and clear to Sephiroth—they killed others or they were killed in return. They were not boy scouts, they were not messengers of hope however the common herd wished to view them. They were paid and trained by ShinRa for the act of murder, and a swift, violent end was the best they could hope for. There was a reason there were very few SOLDIERs over the age of twenty-five. Life expectancy was a joke—SOLDIER was an insurance _nightmare_.

He thought of little Cloud meeting his last moments in some ugly, barren crop of rock in some nameless, mako-rich little nowhere, no one to come to his rescue, no one to tell him he'd done well. Just some monster, some creature come to tear his life out of him, and not even a mother to weep over him.

It was _absolutely_ not a good idea for Cloud to join SOLDIER.

'_It would put him into contact with Hojo_,' Sephiroth reasoned, and angrily refused to acknowledge the fact that he was grasping at reasons, trying to convince himself that the sacrifice of Cloud's _one_ dream was worth the price of keeping him safe. Yes, he would be miserable, but at least he would be _alive_. At least Sephiroth could deign to bestow comfort upon him and make him happy once more. '_Besides, as much as Isaac is an excellent SOLDIER, he is still too impetuous to give Cloud the attention and care that he requires. He would think nothing of allowing Cloud to take a mission similar to Dai's. I fear that he wouldn't protect him…_'

He didn't admit even to himself that it wasn't Cloud's protection he required as much as his _over_protection. It was a normal, rational decision to allow a junior SOLDIER to go on a mission such as Dai's—it was a completely possessive, absolutely irrational thought that such a mission would require supervision from an experienced SOLDIER needed desperately elsewhere. These were things, however, that Sephiroth adamantly refused to acknowledge. Cloud could not be allowed to participate in something that might lead to his harm, and that was the end of it where Sephiroth was concerned.

He picked up his phone and left instructions for the trainers that Cloud Strife was allowed to enter into the program and progress through the trials but he was by no means allowed to pass the final entrance exam whatever his scores may be. A reason would be concocted, believable or not, and he would be barred from further participation in the SOLDIER program. It would hurt him, but people suffered through the loss of dreams every single day. The world was a cold, cruel, and loveless place, but Sephiroth would not allow Cloud to perish for the sake of a silly dream.

No, he would have him miserable and weeping at his side, but he would not have him dead and gone. Not while it was within his power to prevent it.

* * *

Scant days later he found himself thinking of Cloud, mulling the situation over, caught in an unbearable coil of lust and longing and unwelcome guilt. He thought so long and hard over the boy that he very nearly didn't register the security desk buzzing him.

Annoyed to have been drawn out of his thoughts, Sephiroth went to the foyer and pressed the panel, waiting to hear what urgent news so desperately needed to be given as to interrupt his musings.

"Private Strife is here for you, Sir," a voice said.

Faintly surprised, Sephiroth murmured an assent that he come back unescorted, and opened the door. He was vaguely annoyed that the boy hadn't waited on his summons—the last thing he needed was a teenager always tripping him up in his own home—but another part of him was relieved to have his thoughts made flesh, for the boy himself to be here so that he had something physical to focus on.

Cloud came easily down the hallway with his head up and his straight little shoulders squared, clearly braced for rejection. His huge blue eyes were swimming pools of abject apology, but his voice was firm when he lowly said, "I'm not sure myself why I'm here, Sir. I just felt I had to come…"

Sephiroth thought suddenly of the mark he'd put on him, and wondered if it somehow made Cloud more sensitive to his needs. His suspicions only increased when he saw the boy wince a little and rub his lower back.

"It still bothers you?" he asked, ignoring Cloud's apology.

"No, Sir," he lied, dropping his hand. "It feels funny, though. I haven't had any problems with it until just an hour or so ago when it started to tingle."

"Hmph."

Sephiroth silently thought that if he were to pinpoint the exact time he'd started mulling over Cloud, it would have been about an hour before. He suddenly knew that if he pulled the boy's shirt up that mark would be glowing bright blue and steady.

"I asked a friend to look at it for me, but he said everything looked fine," Cloud told him, uncomfortable. "I'm sorry to have bothered you, Sir. I just…really felt like I needed to see you."

Sephiroth smirked a little but generously said, "Please, come in. Mind you, don't make a habit of this, Strife. I have very little patience for children."

"Yes, Sir," Cloud said, all apologies. He was trembling a little when the door closed behind him, but it wasn't fear that dilated his eyes or made his slender body thrum with tension.

They stood there in the foyer, neither of them really knowing what to say or do.

It was Cloud who decided it. Perhaps it was the encompassing power of that mark, or perhaps it was just his whole-hearted abandon to the darker part of himself, but he sank slowly to his knees in the foyer before Sephiroth and reached for him.

It was an invitation too cleverly sent to refuse.

The man smiled coldly at him and leaned back against the door, pleased to feel his little private's beautiful, angelic face nuzzle beneath his heavy coat.


	43. Chapter 43 ish

A/N: For some reason my alerts are not working. I apologize if the story alerts don't reach you all, or if I don't respond to your reviews, because I'm not even getting alerts about those anymore. I only hope the whole thing doesn't go to shit and wind up not letting me even update (it doesn't even _show_ updates for my chapters anymore). I really do apologize for whatever bananas-bullshit is going on with either the site or my own something-something. If you need to get ahold of me and complain or inquire about something, please let me know at my email, which is spelled out: inamabilis(underscore)unloved(at sign)yahoo(dot)com. Sorry, and I'm super bummed about this crazy shit!

* * *

It was violent sex that time, moving from the foyer to the bedroom in slow degrees. Cloud was a discordant mess of willing submissive and snarling beast, but he responded so wholeheartedly to Sephiroth's touch that the man simply couldn't keep his hands off of him.

It was, in part, grief—Cloud had lost a very dear friend, though he would never burden Sephiroth with his feelings and mention it. Death had a way of forcing the living to seek what proof they could that all was not darkness and despair. That Cloud sought some kind of cold comfort in Sephiroth's arms was as desperate as it was sad, for the General was hardly used to offering such things. Instead, he distracted Cloud with heady, overwhelming pleasure, working his body into boneless relaxation, indulging his darker side. There was no planning to it, no caution—just that small, taut body and Sephiroth's own, knotted together across his bed in a spill of silver hair and heat.

He found it to be a suitable substitution for thinking so hard of his little private.

And the entire time Sephiroth worked him with such intense, single-minded determination, that mark glowed like a small moon trapped at the base of Cloud's slender, limber spine.

It was utterly blood-boiling to see that stamp of ownership on his pearly white hide, and Sephiroth felt an all-encompassing sense of _possession_ to gaze upon it. He touched Cloud more intimately than he ever had before, sucking on that glowing mark, tasting the boy's helpless capitulation through his very skin. It drove him to greater and greater passion, riding Cloud's compliant little body with rough urgency time and again until they both were spent and exhausted.

There was no talk of leaving this time—the hour was late, and Cloud was too weakened to go anywhere. He lay quiescent in a comely sprawl across Sephiroth's bed, panting and flushed and slick with spent cum, his blond spikes spread in a wild halo around his head and his big blue eyes half-closed in pleasure.

It was an encounter that set the pace for the next few months. Sometimes Cloud stayed, but never when he felt Sephiroth preferred he wouldn't. The boy was uncannily intuitive where his unpredictable lover's moods were concerned, and would always make himself scarce at such times. Whatever they shared, Cloud never lost his deep fear of Sephiroth's power to hurt him, or his despairing apprehension that the man might do so just because he could. They settled into a routine but not into comfort, always treading warily around one another, waiting for the storm to break.

At times it angered Sephiroth that he felt so strangely about Cloud. He attributed it to his own sense of ownership where the boy was concerned and refused to allow the possibility of anything else. Whenever Cloud seemed to be softening towards him, Sephiroth would find himself oddly irritated, putting him at a distance, keeping him at arm's reach, though it in no way kept him from indulging his appetites with the child's ever-developing and growing body.

The stresses of work came to bear on him, the unusual occurrences at Nibelheim growing more frequent and more disturbing. Time and again he sent SOLDIER operatives out there, and time and again they either came back without their MP escort or not at all. Each time the Turks pulled clean-up, they found no sign of what might be happening, and the President didn't consider it important enough to deal with offensively. Provided the reactor worked, it was of little import.

Still, he returned from another briefing on yet another failed mission in that god-forsaken little shit hole to find Cloud waiting for him at the security desk, clearly disturbed. Aggravated to be bothered, he nonetheless snapped his approval for the boy to accompany him, and made his angry way to his quarters.

They no sooner got in the door than Cloud's breath came out in a soft sob, saying, "I didn't make it, sir."

"Didn't make what, private Strife?" he asked, whipping the _Masamune_ off of his back to hang her on the wall rack. He started to remove his gloves, his irate thoughts on yet another missing SOLDIER. He really was going to have to get a handle on this, or else go himself and look…

"SOLDIER," Cloud breathed, miserable tears welling in his big blue eyes.

"Well," Sephiroth snapped, all thoughts of his original plan to comfort Cloud erased by his irritation with his current situation. "There's always next year."

Cloud seemed to wilt at his indifferent acceptance of this, as if his failure had been a foregone conclusion, expected of someone like Cloud.

"Sir…" he softly said, trying again to convey how upset he was, his guilt at burdening Sephiroth apparent on his miserably sad, beautiful face.

"Cloud, it has been an extremely trying day," Sephiroth told him, tossing his gloves down on a chair and unbuckling his pauldrons to cast them aside before starting on the buckles of his long coat. "Whatever it is that is bothering you, just spit it out."

"I…Never mind, sir," Cloud whispered, utterly crushed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," the man shortly said, and flung his coat down, pausing to fish out his cell.

"Sir, please don't be so—"

"_What_, Cloud?" he asked, and his temper revolted against the hurt look on Cloud's face, the pain he saw etched there. He'd told him before that he was simply a possession, that he didn't _have_ feelings—so why was he looking at Sephiroth with all the signs of someone broken entirely? "If you have come here to whine then you are welcome to leave. I don't have time for your puling, private Strife! You're worse than a puppy sometimes, always getting underfoot—"

The second it left his mouth he wished it hadn't. He could have chosen no better weapon to wound with had he taken a thousand years to consider it.

Cloud's sad face hardened at once to one of outraged, furious hurt.

"Cloud," he said, trying to fix it. His temper very rarely got the better of him and was always quick to flare, quick to burn itself out. Now he was left with a mess on his hands and wondered why he'd even said such a thing. If anything, even when he was present in Sephiroth's home Cloud was so quiet and effacing that the man could forget he was even there.

His failure with SOLDIER compounded by Sephiroth's thoughtless, sniping comment, Cloud buckled. He was out the door before Sephiroth could even reach for him.

Unwilling to make a scene, Sephiroth called the security desk to clear him, and alleviated the obvious concern of the guards who had already tried to restrain the angry, hurt private. Cloud had fought like a man possessed, managing to both wound one of the guards and escape down the stairs. Sephiroth ordered the pursuing sergeant to be called off and Cloud left alone, no record made of his gross violation of the rules.

What had he been so addled about?

Sephiroth put his cell down and frowned, recalling something about not getting in to SOLDIER.

Ah, yes, Cloud's lifelong dream. He'd planned to provide the boy with comfort, but he'd given him the emotional equivalent of a slap to the face. He hadn't meant for that to happen, he'd just been focused wholly on his current issues with SOLDIER. He hadn't even realized that the final grades came out today. Well, that would solve one of his problems—at least now he would have more recruits to fill his ranks.

But no more Cloud to fill his bed.

He wondered if even that brand would pull the boy back to him, but doubted it. Genesis would not have thought of such a possibility, that someone might not _want_ to answer his summons.

What an ungodly mess.

Sephiroth heaved a sigh and went to his study, pushing aside his deep turmoil to do his job. Cloud would wait. He would have to wait.

It's what possessions did.


	44. Chapter 44

Cloud was miserably unhappy and had no way to make it any better.

Failing to gain entrance to SOLDIER had been a kick to the gut and Sephiroth had kicked him again with his sharp, angry retort. Cloud had always been a little afraid that he'd been infringing on the man's time, but to be so bluntly put in his place had both hurt his feelings and angered him. He'd always given Sephiroth an opportunity to make him leave, to have his privacy, to be rid of him—being so cruel and with so little reason had been unnecessary and downright _mean_.

Too hurt to cry, still more angry than anything, the youth veered away from his usual trail straight back to the barracks and chose instead to stalk the grounds. It was nearing twilight and few people were about, which suited his mood. Dai's death had been a devastating blow to him, his one and only friend forever gone. No one really seemed to care about it and Cloud had yet to finish grieving. He'd found out on accident from one of the instructors…

He was stalking along with his eyes on the toes of his heavy boots when he heard a loud whoop and looked up just in time to see a spill of black, the open neck of a white dress shirt, and several scandalous inches of pale white skin before it connected soundly with his nose.

"What the—"

"Back it off, yo!"

Cloud staggered under the impact but the other didn't—he grabbed Cloud's shoulders and slipped behind him, using his dazed body as a living shield from one very disgruntled SOLDIER 1st Class who was both dripping wet and covered all over with chalky powder which rendered him unrecognizable for a few seconds.

"Back it off or the kid gets it!"

Cloud tried shrugging off the slender, determined hands on his shoulders but the person behind him was as tenacious as a bulldog and moved with every movement he made as if he weren't a person at all but rather some kind of clinging smoke.

"Hey! Let _go_ of me!" Cloud ordered, and tried driving his elbow back into them while that SOLDIER drew within striking range.

"Seriously, yo, you look _hilarious_!" the person behind him said, though clearly not to Cloud.

"You scrawny little sleaze, I'll be scrubbing this crap off of me for the rest of my life!" the SOLDIER exclaimed, and Cloud recognized him at once—it was Zack Fair.

He swiped at his face, his eyes two glowing pearls of blue in an otherwise white-coated visage, his black spikes drooping with the weight of whatever powder it was that covered him. But his wide grin didn't convey the same kind of anger his words did, and he seemed more than a little amused.

"Let me go!" Cloud said again, wriggling, but the man behind him was stuck to him like someone had glued him onto Cloud's back.

"I'm gonna cut your hair off, you damned Turk," Zack threatened, and Cloud was again jostled in his use as a shield, the other saying, "Back it off, yo, or the kid gets it!"

Zack looked perplexed and said, "Reno, what're you talking about? I don't even _know_ this kid."

Cloud could've gladly wilted through the concrete.

"Oh…well, in that case…_deuces_!"

Cloud staggered as he was shoved forward, and when he looked back all he saw was the rapidly retreating form of a rather familiar youth in a black suit, his eye-gougingly bright red hair blown back from the wind of his passage.

Zack caught him mid-stumble, sniggering a little at that diminishing form.

"Hey, Cloud, good to see you again," he said, righting the youth.

Cloud flushed, and stammered, "I thought you said you…I mean, you told him…"

"Yeah, well, Reno has a few tricks up his sleeve," Zack said, rocking back on his heels, his arms crossed over his chest and a smug smirk on his face. "But his biggest mistake is thinking I'm out of tricks myself! I'd rather not see you get the chalk treatment, spiky. You okay? What're you doing wandering around out here?"

Cloud could only offer a guilty flush, but Zack's eyes lifted to the building which housed the SOLDIERs and he frowned.

"I'm gonna go try to get this crap off of me," he decided, and clapped Cloud on the shoulder. "Come on, you look like you could use an ear."

"I'm fine, Sir," Cloud told him. The _last_ place he wanted to be was back in that building, was anywhere _near_ Sephiroth.

"No, you're coming with me," Zack decided, and left Cloud no choice—as he walked away, he snagged the smaller boy by his shirt sleeve and hauled him after.

* * *

"You watch out for the Turks, Cloud," Zack warned him, emerging from his bedroom in some comfortable clothes and toweling his wild black hair, which still had streaks and spots of white coating it in places. "Or you'll wind up getting chalk dumped on you when you're wet."

"Is _that_ the Turk Angeal was talking about?" Cloud asked, rather hesitant to bring up the man who'd been lost to them. "I think I've met him before…well, _kinda_…"

"Reno? Yeah, he's something else," Zack said, but he sounded genuinely fond of the Turk he spoke of. "He likes playing pranks, but you gotta watch out for him, Cloud, he's always in trouble. Somehow, he always gets out of it, though, even the General would go to the trouble of getting _Reno_ out of it. Go figure."

Cloud winced at the mention of the General, and blushed when he realized that Zack had seen it.

"Look, Cloud, I know we don't know each other very well, but I think you need someone to talk to," the SOLDIER said, sitting down on the couch next to Cloud. "What's going on? There's been some talk floating around but I want to know the truth, okay?"

"_Talk_?" Cloud asked, horrified. "Talk about what?"

"That the General has developed a rather peculiar interest in a certain blond MP," Zack told him, not sparing his feelings, and Cloud valued his candidness. "What concerns me is that there's talk at _all_. General Sephiroth is by no means a monk, but he's always managed to keep his business private. That there are rumors going around shows me that he's not being very careful about this, and it could hurt the both of you."

Cloud flushed again and defensively asked, "What makes you think it's _me_?"

"Hey," Zack said with a chiding grin. "I'm not stupid, okay? Or blind, or deaf, for that matter. Lay it on me, kid—tell me what the hell is going on. Angeal would've wanted me to sort this…"

His face fell into sad repose when he said this, but he shook it off and gave Cloud a dim echo of his usual saucy, bright grin.

Cloud took a deep breath and let it out, his heart thudding.

"Okay," he whispered. "I'll tell you…"

So he did.


	45. Chapter 45

He'd expected Zack to at least be _uncomfortable_ with what he told him, and he wasn't disappointed. Whatever his relationship with Angeal had been, it hadn't been on quite the terms as Cloud's with the General.

Cloud finished with his devastating rejection from both SOLDIER and Sephiroth, and from there he just fell quiet, waiting for the man to get upset enough to tell him to leave.

Zack, however, just gave him a warm smile and ruffled his wild hair before saying, "I'm so sorry, spiky. Wow…just…lemme think for a minute, okay?"

Cloud said nothing, but he flushed. He'd known deep in his gut that two men sleeping together wasn't as accepted as a man and a woman doing so, but it hadn't _felt_ wrong. He ducked his head and said as much to Zack in a soft murmur.

"No, you're right, Cloud, it's _not_ wrong," Zack responded. "What's _wrong_ about it is the General using you like he has, and your age, little guy. You're a minor, Cloud. He _knew_ better than to involve you in something so outside your realm of experience…Believe me, kiddo, guys together happens just like guys and girls together, there's nothing for you to be ashamed of on _that_ count, if that's your thing. I'm just sorry he had to be so cruel about everything. I've known him for a few years now, and I like to say that we're friends, but I had no idea there was this side to him…"

Cloud squirmed, uncomfortable. He didn't like to think that he drew out a dark side to Sephiroth, that _he_ was the catalyst that made the man act with cruel impulse.

"Still," Zack mused, absently letting his hand drift from Cloud's head to his shoulder. "It seems to me that he's a little _involved_."

Cloud gave him a bewildered look, now utterly lost.

"I mean, he never eats at the same table twice, you know?" Zack said, and his face clued Cloud into what he meant. "That he's spread you out for a feast is kinda abnormal for him…I think maybe he's trying to care for you, Cloud, he just doesn't know how."

"That's not possible," Cloud whispered, shrinking in on himself.

"Look, I'm gonna check into this, Strife," Zack assured him. "I think there's more going on here than he's telling you, and I think there's a good chance that you've gotten to him—"

"I'm just a _thing_, Zack!" the boy cried, angrily reminding him, forgetting his manners with the force of his hurt. "I'm nothing more to him than a body, remember? A _thing_ with no feelings! _A puppy underfoot_!"

Zack grinned at him a little and softly said, "Yeah, we'll I've been a puppy for years, and Angeal used to complain about _me_ always being underfoot, but you gotta look past that kind of thing, Cloud. He was distracted, wasn't he? There's been a lot of bad things happening with SOLDIER lately and it all comes down on the General. I bet he'll come find you sooner rather than later, kid. The question is, do you want to be found?"

"I don't know," Cloud said, miserable. "He treats me like something he's scraped off the bottom of his shoe and then turns around and devours me like I'm some kind of dessert—it _hurts_ me, Zack! It just hurts me…"

Zack hugged him with one arm and gently said, "Yeah…Love does that, Cloud."

The boy blushed, choked on a sob, and fell to tears against Zack's side, ashamed and miserable and in desperate need of kindness.

* * *

After three days of regular training and thoughtful introspection, Cloud was given orders to go to Junon to assist the SOLDIER mission there. He along with two other MPs were bustled onto a helicopter and flown out post-haste—apparently it had something to do with Genesis clones and that fat Doctor Hollandar escaping. Cloud only half-listened to the explanations, his mind was wholly occupied by the frightened thought that Sephiroth might be one of the SOLDIERs sent to deal with it. He was in no way prepared to see the man again, and hadn't a single clue as to how he would respond if Sephiroth approached him, which only led him onto bitter thoughts that he never _would_ approach him…not while _others_ were there to see…

They left early and arrived in mid-afternoon to utter chaos. Not only were there clones abounding, but there were robotic defense machines running amok as well and civilians milling in disorganized panic.

Cloud hopped out with the others and quickly realized that three MPs were a sorry answer to this situation, but he did his best to help contain the mess, wondering where the SOLDIER operatives were and what on earth could be done about it.

There was a general herding instinct towards a bay that would seal, and Cloud fanned out with the others to find other civilians and lead them to safety. As he was passing an alleyway, he checked for a moment, positive that he'd heard a sound. When it wasn't repeated, he started to leave, but was snagged back by a rough hand, another of which clamped over his mouth.

It was Genesis again, with that mad, cruel, somehow pitiless-kind light in his feverish blue eyes.

"_Eromenos_," he whispered, and dragged Cloud further into the alley, away from the fading light.

Cloud struggled, stronger than he had been so long ago, managing to get in a few well-placed kicks—he was too close to use his rifle, but he wished he _could_.

"Did he like my gift, Cloud?" Genesis asked, and he looked worn, used up, falling apart. "Tell me, child—what did Sephiroth think of it?"

That hand came off of his mouth to allow him to answer.

Cloud glared up at him and breathed, "What do you care?"

Genesis's face transformed with sudden rage, a flash of ugly fury that came and went as quickly as lightning strikes.

"Of course, I care," he purred, bringing his face close to Cloud's so that his cat-like blue eyes filled the whole of the youth's vision. "You think I would give him such a gift on a _whim_, little one? Where is it, Cloud?"

"The gift?" Cloud asked, confused. "I don't know, Sir—he never opened it in my presence—"

"Not the _gift_, idiot child! The _mark_!" Genesis hissed, and seemed strangely excited. Enough so that Cloud started to get nervous. Genesis had said that he'd envied Sephiroth's disregard for the sex of his lovers, implying that he kept to women, but the gleam in his eyes was wholly sexual, albeit unwholesome. Cloud had a feeling that it wasn't his _gender_ that was exciting Genesis, but his _fear_, his _anxiety_, and the fact that Sephiroth deigned to touch him.

"Mark?" he squeaked, trying to pull away, but the solid wall at his back prevented it. For a sickening moment he thought the man might kiss him, but Genesis merely gazed at him, his breath coming in quick, excited bursts. "What do you mean?"

Genesis's expression changed to one of devious amusement and he whispered, "Have you felt _strange_ lately, Cloud? Perhaps an unexplained pain somewhere on that pretty white body of yours?"

Cloud's wide, shocked eyes were all the answer he needed. The man started to chuckle and purred, "Tell me where…_show me_."

Cloud automatically reached for the small of his back and gasped when Genesis spun him around, yanking his shirt up and pulling hard on his belted pants to see the base of his spine.

"Ah, there it is," he breathed, and lovingly touched the warm skin of Cloud's back. "Such a beautiful thing, isn't it? He thinks of you, you come to him. He dreams of you, you wake in your soiled bed. He calls to you, you kneel at his feet. _I_ made this possible for him, child! _I_ gave him this power over you, this mark that binds you to him…you're nothing but his puppet, my pretty little _eromenos_, and that is how you will stay…"

"No!" Cloud wailed, suddenly comprehending what had been done to him, understanding now Sephiroth's odd questions about his "injury" and his own strange response to the man's mood. He didn't belong to himself, he belonged to _Sephiroth_, and that burned him down to the dregs of his soul.

"Say thank you," Genesis breathed, and leaned against him to kiss Cloud's soft cheek. "Without me, you would never know what it's like to serve a true _god_…"

"Why?" Cloud sobbed, horrified. "Why would you do something like this? What did I ever do to you to deserve this?"

"You did nothing, my lovely little love," Genesis crooned, letting go of him but stroking his wild hair. "You are so insignificant that even your misdeeds leave no sign on your betters. It wasn't what you _did_, Cloud, it was _who loves you_. For _him_ I would enslave the goddess herself, my friend, my foe, my beloved enemy—_you_ are a token of my esteem, Cloud Strife, and if it interferes somehow with your petty little life…well, I care not at all…"

"So you let him brand me like some kind of…_animal_?" Cloud cried, twisting around to face him, a scowl on his pretty face.

Genesis smirked and cupped his cheek, saying with such sincere tenderness that it shredded Cloud's heart, "My dear, you _are_ an _animal_…"

Cloud tore away from him then, running all the way back to that bay, not even aware when the place was sealed. He leaned miserably against the wall, his stomach heaving until he started throwing up.

"Dude, you okay?"

He gave the other MPs a half-hearted wave and weakly told them, "Motion sickness from the 'copter…I'm f—"

He interrupted himself with another violent bout of puking. When it passed he just leaned against the wall, shaking and sweating.

"Hey, do you—_Cloud_! Holy crap, spiky, you look _awful_!"

"S…sorry, Sir," Cloud managed, too ill to even think of properly greeting his new friend. "Motion sick…"

"Huh," Zack said, acknowledging it without quite believing him. "Well, you stay here where it's safe, kid, okay? I'll be back. And maybe tonight I'll take you guys out for dinner or something, yeah?"

The other MPs seemed to like this idea. Cloud just moaned and hitched with dry heaves.

He couldn't believe what he'd been told. He understood it fundamentally as the _truth_, but he didn't _want_ to believe it. He'd been so cautiously hopeful this whole time that he'd been making progress with Sephiroth, that they'd come to mean _something_ to one another outside of a warm, willing body…That the man had used Genesis's "gift" on him made Cloud ill with disgust. He'd branded him just like the possession he'd always claimed Cloud was. And the thing that angered Cloud the most about it was that he'd allowed himself to be used. Sephiroth had uttered no word, made no gesture, given no sign that anything at all had changed between them since that night he'd told Cloud that he didn't _have_ feelings, that he was nothing but a body…_Cloud_ had been the one imagining things, interpreting the picture how he'd wanted. Sephiroth had given him no illusions, Cloud had whipped them up for himself, and the idea of such a bone-deep self-deception scared him. What manner of easily-led, weak-willed person _was_ he that he could fool himself so utterly?

The issue was resolved without Cloud even being aware of it. Once again he was parceled into the helicopter, still green around the edges and clutching his stomach. He spent the ride back to Midgar curled into a ball of wrecked nerves, his hand returning time and again to the base of his spine, where some _mark_ that only Genesis and Sephiroth could see lay awake on his skin. Branded. Owned. _Used_.

* * *

A/N: Okay, we have just a few chapters left before the bitter end. I really appreciate people staying with me through this, especially since (most of) you already had to wade through The Beginning of the End in all its long, drawn-out glory(ish). I never meant for this to ramble on so far, and I know it's getting a little tiresome, but we'll finish up with a bang, and then it will be put to rest!


	46. Chapter 46

"…Cloud."

That last part pierced Sephiroth's awareness, and he turned to pin Fair with his narrowed eyes, tearing his gaze off of the setting sun and all of its wasted glory as it dipped to the horizon off of Junon.

"I beg your pardon, Isaac, what did you just say?" he asked. He'd come to Junon in the SOLDIER's wake to see what had happened and, maybe, to see Genesis once more as he more than suspected the man was somehow still alive. He'd arrived in time for Hollander to make his escape and to gently chide Zack on that count. Now, having just given the young, puppy-like, and lovable First Class SOLDIER permission to go check on his girlfriend, Zack popped off with something concerning Cloud.

"Sir, I said that you need to do something with Cloud," Zack repeated, and looked oddly chastened, as if he'd been under some impression that he now found distasteful.

"Cloud?" Sephiroth asked, trying to control his sudden shock. He'd spoken to no one of Cloud, how had Zack stumbled upon it? He knew that the young First had been coaching his little Private, but he hadn't ever dreamed that Cloud might share personal and intimate details with his young friend. It was outside of Sephiroth's ability to imagine such a thing, and it left him utterly lost, staring down at Zack with icy reserve to cover his inner panic.

Zack got that drooping, disappointed look on his face that had so often roused Angeal to bend to his whims. Unfortunately for Fair, Sephiroth was rather immune to such looks, and had weathered far more moving expressions from Cloud.

"Sir," the youth said, whispering. "Please…I thought we were friends."

"We are," Sephiroth smoothly told him, idly flicking back a long strand of his silver hair when it floated into his face. The wind was picking up here at the edge of the world, it would seem. It blew Zack's spiky hair into a mess of tangles and tugged at his loose pants.

"Then I'm telling you as a friend that you need to fix this thing with Cloud, Sir," Zack said, more solemn than Sephiroth could ever recall him being. "He's a wreck, to be honest. Just now he—"

"Cloud is _here_?" Sephiroth questioned, all thoughts of secrecy pushed from his mind in an overwhelming pulse of fear for the small boy. He hadn't even known that Cloud had _been_ in Junon. How could such a thing escape his notice?

"Yes, Sir, he was part of the troopers ShinRa sent to help control the crowd," Zack informed him. "Sir…something is wrong with him. He was sick…"

"He gets motion sickness," Sephiroth absently murmured. It was easier to lie than to explain the frustrating dynamics of Cloud's stress-relief processes.

"Well, he wasn't moving, so I don't buy it," Zack flatly said. "I think something got ahold of him, Sir—he kept rubbing at his back like it was bothering him, he'd damned near rubbed it _raw_, Sir. I don't know what is going on with the two of you but I know enough, Sir. Whatever happened between the two of you…can you fix it?"

Sephiroth faced the wind and let it push his hair back from his face. He blinked slowly, thinking about what Zack was asking him.

"I think Genesis was here," Zack whispered, just an absent comment, but it made Sephiroth's pulse start to pound again.

Cloud and Genesis.

Cloud ill with stress.

Cloud rubbing his back.

Without a doubt, Sephiroth knew that Genesis had told him, had told Cloud what Sephiroth had done to him.

He closed his eyes and tried to be calm when he whispered, "Go on, Isaac. I will see you soon."

Zack hesitated, looking so uncertain and afraid that Sephiroth was suddenly, violently reminded of how _young_ he was. The SOLDIER First Class had lost Angeal, had killed his dearest mentor, and had battled Genesis himself on Sephiroth's behalf. Zack had lost so many people he'd known and loved and the stark fear that he would lose Sephiroth as well was overwhelming in his big blue eyes.

Sephiroth gave Zack a soft, reassuring smile and promised again, "We'll see each other soon."

Zack gestured at him helplessly, but started to back away, needing to move, needing to go tie up his own loose ends. His voice was teasing but still serious when he said, "I'll hold you to that."

With one last, lingering look at Sephiroth, the youth turned his back and walked away, leaving Sephiroth alone with his thoughts and wondering what he would do.

He didn't have much to wonder about, when it came down to it.

Sephiroth returned to Midgar later that night after it was apparent that Genesis would not show himself, would not betray his hand. He'd returned with every intention to do some investigating but found himself leaving orders at the security desk for them to track down private Strife and send him up immediately.

It was outrageously risky, bound to give rise to speculation, would feed rumor mills for months—but Sephiroth knew he could not make this one wait. Cloud was a creature poised forever on the brink of self-immolation and what Genesis had, no doubt, told him would only give fuel to that fire. He couldn't very well go traipsing through the barracks, so he settled for the next best thing.

An hour later, an escort arrived at his door with one _extremely_ agitated private caught between them.

"Thank you, gentlemen, I will take it from here," Sephiroth murmured, opening his door to snag Cloud by the scruff.

"Don't _touch_—"

"_Silence_!" Sephiroth hissed, dragging him inside and telling the troops to carry on before he slammed the door closed on their startled, wary faces. He shook Cloud a little by his hold on the boy's neck and dragged him straight back to the bedroom where he flung him inside, slammed the door, locked it, and leaned against it for good measure.

Cloud had skittered across the room to be as far from him as possible, panting and furious, his blue eyes welling darkness with the force of his emotion. He said nothing, but he didn't need to. By now, Sephiroth knew the cycle of Cloud's temper—first the hurt, then the sickness, then the fury. He was pathetic in his hurt, pitiable in his sickness, but in his fury he was something just this side of glorious with those sparkling blue eyes, flushed cheeks, and clenched fists.

When Cloud was furious Sephiroth saw the man he would someday become, and that was a strong, fierce man indeed.

"You know," he said, crossing his arms over his chest, preparing for Cloud's angry and wounded words.

The youth managed to surprise him again. Instead of tears or recriminations, he merely said, "Yes."

There was a long, pregnant silence during which Sephiroth tried to decide how best to turn this situation. He disliked Cloud's anger, disliked Cloud's rebellious and determined fury. Seeing the young man after just a few days of absence was like a blow to his gut and that made Sephiroth uneasy. What was he that he could have such an affect? When had the tables turned and put Cloud in a position that somehow overruled Sephiroth's common sense?

Those vividly glowing blue eyes lifted again, starkly angry in Cloud's tight, blank face. There was no flinching, no withdrawing—Cloud was ready to do battle at last, and Sephiroth was unprepared, was suddenly off-kilter where this beautiful and bewildering young man was concerned. It was as if someone had kept him blindfolded his entire life and Cloud was suddenly ripping it free, exposing Sephiroth to everything all at once. It alarmed him, it made him hesitate.

Cloud, however, did not.

"I won't," he said, chin lifting, _daring_ Sephiroth to counter. His small fists, so capable in their leather gloves, clenched tight and pressed to his long thighs.

Sephiroth said nothing. There was simply nothing _to_ say.

"I won't," Cloud repeated, and shook his head. "I won't be your toy. I won't be a body for you to use, do you understand me? I won't let you use me anymore, I just _won't_. And I don't _care_ that you've branded me like I'm just some kind of animal you own, Sir—I won't come when you call me. I _won't_."

Sephiroth blinked slowly in the gloom, his heightened senses aware of Cloud's pounding heart, of the young man's tight muscles, his fear and his pain.

"Be very careful, Cloud," he whispered, feeling the dangerous edges of his own true temper begin to unfurl like a huge, dark wing inside of him.

"_You be careful_," the youth hissed, his voice harsh and cold. "I gave you _everything_, Sephiroth! I loved you with everything in me and you _branded_ me! I loved you and you _knew_ it, _you knew it_! And _this _is what I'm worth to you in the end?!"

He flung one accusing finger in the direction of the bed, pointing at the exact place where Sephiroth had fused that mark onto his skin with sex and magic and blood.

Sephiroth flinched, drawing back against the door in his bewilderment. He'd never been involved with another person to such an extent before and Cloud's attack put him off balance.

Cloud had easily admitted loving him, had done it with the same effortless reflex of breathing—why, then, did it steal Sephiroth's reason? Why did it awaken something inside him that was too closely married to _fear_ for his comfort?

"I warned you," he growled, anything to push it back, anything to seal Cloud back in that box where he belonged, a tidy package for Sephiroth to unwrap when it suited him and _not_ a volatile mess of emotional excess. Things had changed, changed out of his control, and loss of control was simply unacceptable. "I warned you not to think I could care."

Cloud glared at him, no trace of that shrinking child in him, no. He knew. Everything that had come from the General's lips had been burned and scarred into the meat of what Cloud was.

"I never wanted your _love_, Cloud," Sephiroth said, seeking to wound, trying to find that weak and malleable boy inside this furious and hard youth. "I merely sought to give you what you needed."

He expected tears, he expected that shield to crack at last in the face of such cruelty. He _counted_ on it, because he couldn't continue to be so awful to Cloud.

Something inside him simply wouldn't allow it.

"I know," Cloud whispered. That fearsome anger never wavered, but sadness hovered behind his eyes, making them centuries older than they truly were. "Genesis told me. I remember, Sir—I'm just a body."

Sephiroth stared at the young man standing so still and angry across the room, so convinced of his own place in a world that had never been kind, never been true. His illusions had become such a part of him, had woven themselves into the fabric of his life with such skilled maliciousness that Cloud was unable to see past them. Better, then, to accept things as they were…

Cloud, it would seem, was done running, done crying, done trying to be something he was convinced now he could never be. He was beaten but not defeated, tired but not exhausted, surrendering but not giving up.

"Bodies don't require explanations," he said, his blue eyes glowed a little brighter as his pupils contracted, swallowing down that darkness, and he moved as if he would simply push Sephiroth out of the way and continue past him…Out of the door, out of his sight, out of his life…

"You aren't going anywhere," Sephiroth snapped, getting ahold of himself.

Cloud gave him nothing but blank reserve, but that sadness was just beneath the surface, so close he could touch it.

"You can't have it both ways," he said, his low voice so soft. "I'm leaving."

"No," Sephiroth tightly repeated. "You're_ not_."


	47. Chapter 47ish

They stood there, glaring at one another.

Cloud actually _pushed_ him—_pushed him_—to get to the lock. He pushed as if Sephiroth was nothing more than a barrier in his path, negligible and quickly forgotten.

Scowling, Sephiroth grabbed his small, delicate wrist and wrenched his hand away from the door, a low, rumbling growl working its way out of his throat. He didn't recognize this sudden fear inside him, didn't understand why he was both terrified of Cloud staying and horrified at the thought of him leaving—none of it made any sense, and it threw him into defensive mode.

He handled the youth a little rougher than even he could excuse, flinging him back away from the door and keeping his grip tight on that slender wrist.

The beast blazed up behind Cloud's eyes, drowning them in darkness, narrowing his irises to slivers of glowing, startling blue—furious and ready for a fight.

"You leave when _I_ say you leave," Sephiroth reminded him, and squeezed until Cloud winced, until a flush lit his cheeks and a different kind of feral emotion filled those beast's-eyes.

"This doesn't change anything," Cloud whispered, suddenly unresisting, his fragile wrist relaxing in Sephiroth's hand. "You know how I feel about you…And I know how you feel about _me_. You'll have me and I'll let you, but it doesn't change anything, Sir. I won't be your slave—"

"You will _always_ be mine!" Sephiroth hissed, dragging that smaller, slender body up against his to trap Cloud against his chest, releasing his wrist so that he could run his gloved fingers through the youth's spiky hair. "Run from it, hate it, loathe me if you wish, but it is all very simple, Cloud—you are mine, and I will not have you parted from me."

Cloud's anger didn't falter but it softened, yielded to that thing within him, that subservient and needy part of him which ever responded to Sephiroth's dominant demands.

"I am _already_ parted from you," he sadly said. "I would have given you every bit of myself…but you didn't want it. You wanted me to be just a body, Sir. I guess now, you get it…"

Sephiroth gazed down at him, conflicted, but Cloud was still softly murmuring, "Don't you know I would've come if you'd ever swallowed your pride enough to call for me? What _wouldn't_ I have done for you, if you'd only asked? But you couldn't let me think you might ever need me, so you branded me instead. I will be a _thing_ for you, Sephiroth, but I will not give you love, not anymore. If you want me hogtied and naked on a silver platter, you will have it. If you want me spread out on my back in the SOLDIER training area, you will have it. If you want me sprawled across the President's desk with his entourage looking on in horror, you will have it. I am not a joke to you, no—I am a _possession_, and you will use me as you see fit…and I will allow it because I have no choice in the end."

He finished spitting Sephiroth's own words back at him and sadly, lowly echoed a thought the man had had several times before, "It's just what possessions _do_."

He jerked away from Sephiroth's lax grip and stepped back, only his huge, liquid eyes betraying his sadness as he deftly and efficiently began to undress.

Sephiroth realized what he was about, but pride sealed his lips. He leaned back against the door and watched in grim distaste as Cloud disrobed before him with all of the business-like air of a boardroom member.

"Stop this," he finally said, seeing the boy's slender, muscled belly exposed in a flash as he pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it carelessly onto the floor. "Cloud, stop this."

Cloud ignored him, choosing instead to tug his pants down and kick them away.

"Cloud," Sephiroth said again, and said the only thing he could to guarantee tears, that could put Cloud back where he belonged—"_I_ _don't want you_."

Naked, Cloud lowered himself to the floor and knelt there, calm and empty. Utterly empty. It was as if he'd been washed out, cleaned, hollowed to the core and left to dry—his fears, his own wants, his needs, none of it slipped through his tight, covering calm.

Sephiroth didn't like it one bit. The reality of a body without emotions was less enticing than it sounded, and the majority of Cloud's appeal for him was his confounding personality.

"I know," the young man finally said, unperturbed.

Sephiroth waited for him to say something more, but Cloud just stared at his boots, blinking slowly as if there weren't any thoughts at all in his vapid head…

"Stop this!" Sephiroth hissed, infuriated. "Stop pretending to be so wounded! Your childish attempts to manipulate me—"

He cut off, aggravated, struggling to find his own calm.

Now that he had what he'd claimed to have wanted—Cloud at his beck and call, a body for his pleasure, a mind without thought and a heart without emotion—he was oddly dissatisfied. This empty little husk was unappealing, disturbing. He wanted Cloud to be…_Cloud_.

Somewhere in that meditatively gazing and calm mockery of a beautiful young man was a shaken and frightened boy who had always broken beneath the force of Sephiroth's demands. There was a soul inside there which would fill those blue eyes with sorrowful, fawning adoration and animate those long, lithe limbs to twine around him in giving pleasure. Somewhere in this kneeling, waiting shell was a boy who loved him and had, perhaps, been wounded too terribly and too many times for it to make any difference now.

Sephiroth wished in that moment that he'd paid more attention to what he'd been doing to Cloud, that the assumption that the young man would always bend to his whims hadn't kept him from treating Cloud like a feeling, frightened child. He'd not been Cloud's first lover but he'd been the only one Cloud had loved, and what had he taught him of it except to expect betrayal, to be wary once the pleasure was done? He'd shown Cloud the ugly, dark side of love—the side that scorned, that bruised, that turned pleasure into pain, where the needs of one were ignored in favor of pleasing the other.

He looked at Cloud, so silent and calm, as if he would wait forever should Sephiroth require it. Waiting to be dismissed, waiting to be used, discarded, forgotten until he was wanted once more. Sephiroth treated his weapon with more respect, showed the _Masamune_ more concern regarding its welfare.

"Cloud," he whispered, watching for some flicker of life on that blank, beautiful, utterly still face. "I've been…_unfair_ to you."

Cloud said nothing, his hands loose on his thighs, his head slightly bowed.

"Cloud…" Frustrated, Sephiroth asked, "Will you talk to me?"

"What would you like me to say?" Cloud inquired. "Loving you isn't good enough; this will have to suffice. I won't run from you any more, Sir. I never seem to get anywhere…"

Sephiroth flinched a little from that soothing tone, those expressionless eyes. As if he'd thrown a switch inside his head, Cloud had cut himself loose from that part of him that loved Sephiroth…In essence, he'd cut himself off entirely.

Growling a little, Sephiroth stalked the few short steps to where Cloud knelt and snarled his fingers into the boy's wild blond hair, pulling with slow determination in an attempt to make Cloud _react_, to weep at last and let him in where he belonged.

Cloud tipped his head, moving with the rough tug. When tears of pain welled from his eyes it was actually disturbing—those big eyes didn't blink, his expression stayed neutral, just those silvery tears slipping over his pale cheeks.

"Tell me to stop!" Sephiroth snapped, jerking harder.

Cloud blinked, spilling more tears down his face, but his voice was soft when he said, "I've been begging all this time for you to stop …but you won't hear me."

Sephiroth jerked him up onto his knees, nearly tearing that soft hair out by the roots, more angry and upset than he could ever remember being. But it was always that way with Cloud, always so perplexing, so confusing.

"I _will_ have reaction from you, Cloud Strife," he hissed, shaking that slender, strong body, Cloud swaying in his grasp as if boneless. "So help me, Cloud—you will not pretend to be undone!"

Cloud's blue eyes gazed up at him, full of resignation.

Sephiroth hefted him, armful that he'd become, and tossed him onto the bed where he lay sprawled out, staying as he fell. With a soft curse, he checked the lock on the bedroom door and turned back to the bed, stripping with none of Cloud's calm, none of his practicality—his movements were sharp and angry, but still graceful.

Cloud turned his head away, looking towards the wall, the long, swan-like curve of his throat bared, one small hand softly curled next to his head, his slender body lying like some kind of discarded toy on Sephiroth's bed. He didn't react when Sephiroth crawled over the bed to him, didn't twitch.

"Damn it, you _will_ respond!" Sephiroth ordered, wrenching Cloud's head around to look down into his sad, smooth face, his blue eyes half-lidded. He was as tranquil as a saint, patiently waiting for Sephiroth to do whatever he wanted to do so Cloud could get on with his day.

It was absolutely _infuriating_!

"You can't touch me," Cloud whispered, blinking slowly up at him. "You can use me, but you can't touch me. Not anymore."

Sephiroth jerked the boy up by his arm, lifting him so that his head fell back.

"You think you can keep your heart from me, Cloud?" he asked, and leaned close to hiss, "_It, too, is mine_!"

He didn't even stop to question himself, didn't stop to consider his confusing and sudden change of heart—the very thing he'd demanded stay far, far from him, the very thing he scorned and belittled, mocked at every turn, crushed with every thoughtless, careless action was the very thing he now demanded of a boy who'd simply lost all means to protect himself outside of this apathy.

Cloud didn't cry, didn't beg. He gazed at Sephiroth with that steady, aching sorrow on his smooth, soft face, his blue eyes reproaching Sephiroth far more than any words could ever do.


	48. Chapter 48!

It didn't seem to matter anymore that he'd despised Cloud's freely offered and easily wounded little heart—having it out of reach drove Sephiroth into a fury and made him hungry to have it. He tried to tell himself that he wanted it because he would fully control Cloud if he had the boy's tender affection, but the reality of it was simple.

Without Cloud's fragile, delicate heart and fawning affection, Sephiroth was incomplete.

For as long as he'd fancied himself as necessary to Cloud as air, it was shocking and upsetting to find that the tables had turned in such a way and this child, this beautiful young man who'd only ever offered him such soft yielding, _was important to him_.

Sephiroth stared down at him, the anger and confusion draining away to leave him lost and filled with a welling panic that threatened to make him tremble. Cloud hung limply from his hands, those blue eyes just staring with impenetrable calm.

"Cloud," he whispered, easing the youth's slender, muscled body down to the mattress and touching his delicate face with one graceful hand. "…Cloud…I…"

Cloud turned his head again, settling a little against the mattress. He looked terribly small and defenseless—but, he always had been defenseless where Sephiroth was concerned. He'd never pretended otherwise. It had been _Sephiroth_ who had consistently and willfully harmed him time and again, knowing all along that Cloud had no way to keep himself safe, that he'd relied on the very one who'd harmed him because Sephiroth was a grown man, a man in control, a man who should've known better.

"Cloud," he breathed, and dropped his head, his hair slithering down his back to brush against the boy's belly. He bent and curled around Cloud's slim body, dwarfing the young man's slender form, propped over him on his elbows with his hair falling down around them to screen them in shadowy darkness. He breathed Cloud's name again, closing his own glowing eyes and kissing the tender shell of Cloud's ear. He could never in a thousand years apologize—his arrogance and pride wouldn't allow it and his upbringing gave him no experience in it. The best he could manage was a rather defensive kindness that would in no way heal the wounds he'd made.

"Cloud," he breathed again, and cupped that soft face in his calloused hands, whispering his lips over Cloud's own plump mouth, his soft cheeks, his pert little nose, his closed and fluttering lids. "Can you not be content that you are mine?"

The boy drew a shaky, uneven breath beneath him but said nothing.

"I will have you utterly," Sephiroth warned him, kissing him once fully on the lips, his tongue dancing deep. He reached down into the heart of himself, into that place that pulsed and ached whenever he thought of Cloud. He reached out to it and willed it into vibrant life, pouring into it all of his desire to have Cloud as fully as he ever had.

Cloud gasped and wriggled and Sephiroth knew that the mark did, indeed, still have its power. It was frightening and sickening and elating to realize it, because he knew deep inside himself that the mark couldn't _force_ Cloud into doing something he didn't already have the capability or desire to do. The child was angry with him, hurt, playing indifferent, but deep inside him was still the boy who burned for and craved Sephiroth's touch.

"_Eromenos_," Sephiroth whispered, letting his breath drift across Cloud's moist lips. "I know you're in there, Cloud—my very own. Yes, you are mine. Yes, I will have you. Give yourself to me…"

His mouth melded with Cloud's forcing his lips wide, pushing his hot tongue into the soft heat of Cloud's small mouth. He stroked and teased, grazing at Cloud's mouth, gently stroking his hands down the child's slender, muscled sides.

"Almost a man, now, my Cloud," he purred, nudging Cloud's head to one side so that he could kiss and nip the silky skin of his neck, lifting goosebumps in his wake. "What a man you will make…but for now, you are my own…"

Cloud made a soft noise, seduced by the possibility of true affection—so easily led, so easily swayed, and that mark working through his body to amplify his secret need…to be held and loved by Sephiroth.

Sephiroth breathed his name like a prayer, sucking on the sensitive skin of Cloud's throat, cupping the child's beautiful face with one hand while the other teased its way down to twine his fingers with Cloud's own. He lifted those fingers to his lips, kissing each fingertip, sucking each one into his mouth to gently nip with his sharp teeth.

Cloud was looking at him.

Those big blue eyes were _seeing_ him, wide and solemn and ancient in their suffering, but _seeing_ him.

"Is it so awful, then?" he asked, pressing a kiss to Cloud's lax palm, letting his mouth suck briefly on his tiny, delicate wrist where the youth's pulse pounded. "Is it really such a terrible thing to belong to me, Cloud?"

The young man whimpered deep in his throat, his big blue eyes closing to block Sephiroth out, to defend himself, to keep up his newfound resolve.

"This is mine," Sephiroth murmured, nipping his way down Cloud's slender, corded arm to bite the hard bulge of his bicep. He bit again, harder, and Cloud twitched. "There's a beast inside you, Cloud, and he belongs to me and me alone."

"No," Cloud protested, his voice soft and strained. "You don't love me. You don't care…"

The man trailed his wet tongue back up to the soft hollow of Cloud's throat to tease the skin there, to nip it and suck on it until it turned a dark, vivid red. He straddled that small body, his firm sex resting on the long length of Cloud's own thigh as he arched over him, silver hair drifting down around them both. He bent over and brushed his tongue over first one nipple, and then the other, wetting them, letting the cool air work while he was otherwise occupied. The sweet skin of Cloud's ridged belly begged bites, begged marks and teeth. Sephiroth indulged it, biting so hard he drew a soft cry from Cloud's lips more than once. The child's body swelled up to thrust against his white stomach. Sephiroth laved his tongue down to gently probe its straining tip.

Cloud whimpered again, and when Sephiroth glanced up at him he saw that the boy's eyes had bled to black—the beast was awake and hungry, driving back Cloud's best intentions to remain removed.

"All mine," he breathed, leaning up so that his warm breath blew over one tiny, perked nipple. He rubbed the other with his rough thumb while he teased Cloud's nipple with his tongue, swirling around the hardened tip, raking it with his teeth, sucking it hard and biting down. "My little Cloud…"

He switched, giving the other small nipple its share of rough attention, his own cock swollen and hard, so heavy that it hung to brush Cloud's own as he moved.

They both moaned at the contact and Sephiroth paused, taking a moment to catch his breath. It had to be perfect, he knew. He had to be careful and attentive or he risked losing Cloud entirely. He took another shaky breath and chanced a covert look at Cloud's face.

The child lay there with that sorrowful, needy expression on his beautiful face, waiting to be hurt, needing to be loved. The only thing he'd ever asked for, the only thing that Sephiroth simply would never give him.

He kissed Cloud again, hands brushing over the young man's slender body, feeling and gentle, memorizing every contour and hollow, every dip and valley of that beautiful little form. He kissed him and stroked him until Cloud writhed a little beneath him, whimpering.

"Hush, Cloud," he soothed, dropping kisses on the boy's firm chest, backing down his body to kiss each narrow hip, to lave the soft slope of his loins with his tongue. The soft crease of the youth's groin enticed him, the salty skin behind his dainty knees begged tickling kisses. He kissed Cloud all over his pretty body, cherishing him as the boy so needed, whispering against his sweat-dewed skin, "This is mine, this is mine…"

Finally, when he saw those eyes blazing with light—that familiar thin ring of blue around solid and startling black—Sephiroth wrapped his lips around the swollen tip of Cloud's cock and softly sucked.

Cloud moaned, back arching, fingers clenching in the bedspread.

Sephiroth swallowed him down to the base and sucked again, swallowed, and sucked again until Cloud's soft voice came again in helpless pleasure. Those slender hips strained up against his mouth, Cloud's muscled thighs parting wide as the pleasure gripped him.

Sephiroth slowly slipped the boy's fat, firm cock out of his mouth and breathed against it, "This is mine, Cloud."

He drew the youth's tight little balls into his mouth and rolled them, his long finger working its way up inside Cloud's body. The boy gasped a little and tilted his hips up, giving him easier access, rocking as Sephiroth began to gently rub his finger over and over Cloud's sweet spot.

"Are you mine?" he asked, palming Cloud's wet balls and gently squeezing so that he writhed, moaning. "Cloud, answer me—are you mine?"

"Yes," he whimpered, writhing.

Sephiroth removed his finger and rolled Cloud onto his belly, pulling him up onto all fours and sliding his finger back in, his free hand reaching around to pinch the tip of Cloud's cock with vicious cruelty.

Cloud's hips flexed and he moaned, knees spreading a little further and back arching.

"If you are mine," Sephiroth breathed, looking down at that brand on the boy's back—bright blue and blazing. He worked his finger slowly in and out of Cloud's tight body, teasing his sweet spot while he pinched and squeezed Cloud's weeping cock. "Then you will cum for me, Cloud."

"No," he moaned, shuddering hard. His eyes were closed tight, his head down.

Sephiroth watched him in the mirror, watched his beautiful little body tighten. He left off abusing Cloud's cock long enough to pull the boy up a little, to expose that pretty, straining body to the mirror behind the headboard.

"Look at you," he whispered, and changed his angle to keep rubbing Cloud's spot, only now he could see that dripping cock, that flushed little face. "My little beast, I'm the only one who can do to you what you _need_."

He reached down and cupped Cloud's balls, squeezing slowly, tightening his grip until Cloud's teeth clenched and his cock pulsed, swelling as he nearly came. He let go and Cloud yelped, the loss of that pressure its own kind of pain.

"Bring yourself," he ordered, thrusting his finger with more urgency. "Let me see you touch yourself."

Cloud whimpered but obeyed. His small hand grasped his strutted sex and started to stroke, his grip tight and frantic. He jerked off with such a forceful, harsh grip that his pretty cock turned pink with chafing.

"That's right," Sephiroth whispered, and thrust his finger in so that it would _hurt_ him, brought his free hand around to roughly slap and fondle Cloud's tight balls. "Cum for me."

Cloud gasped and surged, the hard orgasm wracking him so roughly that he nearly shuddered out of Sephiroth's grasp.

The man bent him over so that the rest of his cum spilled out across the bed in the hollow of his body. When Cloud started panting, Sephiroth pulled the boy's hand away and used his own, milking the slender young man with hard, squeezing tugs.

Cloud whimpered and finally bucked, clenching in another hard orgasm, writhing wildly in Sephiroth's loose embrace. He gasped and grabbed onto the bedspread, desperate and feral in his pleasure. Sephiroth leaned over him as he worked that tight and madly climaxing body and bit Cloud deeply on his shoulder.

A long, low, keening noise came from Cloud's mouth and he shoved his hips forward in a final spasm, forcing out a soft dribble of cum.

The man rubbed his finger a few more times before he gently slipped it out of Cloud and let go of his softening cock. With a flush of victory, he rolled Cloud over into the mess of his own cum, smiling when the boy shuddered, realizing it and relishing even this soft degradation.

"All mine," he whispered. "See how you want me, Cloud? See how you cannot live without me to touch you?"

Cloud gazed up at him with those beast's eyes, tranquil and hungry still.

Sephiroth rolled his legs up and pushed against Cloud's tight entrance. He could've used lube, spit, even the boy's own cum—but he wanted to do it the hard way, and he knew Cloud needed it. He watched bliss transform Cloud's gorgeous face as he worked deeper, forcing himself in, stretching the boy wide. Those slim legs locked around his hips, urging him deeper. His strong little back arched, forcing his hips up against Sephiroth's.

"Do you want it, Cloud?" he asked, poised on the brink of an orgasm, reveling in the pleasure of owning Cloud to his very core.

"Yes," Cloud moaned, and the shame in his voice only added to the young man's horrified pleasure. He covered his face with his small hands and sighed, "_Yes_!"

Sephiroth gripped his narrow hips and shoved hard with a grunt of satisfaction. He snapped his hips back and drove them forward, hitting a deep, brutal pace that only made Cloud wriggle on him in mindless pleasure.

He was so beautiful, his Cloud—splayed out in bliss with his soft mouth parted and his eyes hazy. He didn't know why, but Cloud moved him in that moment. This beautiful, vulnerable, and fragile young man was his from the tips of his unruly, spiky hair to the tips of his perfect, curled little toes. For the first time, Sephiroth understood what a gift Cloud had been offering him, what a priceless and matchless and utterly selfless gift he'd been rejecting this whole time.

"I still love you," Cloud sighed.

Sephiroth clutched his slender body up to his chest and came with a shocked, relieved gasp, throwing his hips up into that accommodating body and shuddering roughly as that soft admission pulled everything out of him to spill inside his little Cloud.

"I love you," Cloud whispered, hugging his neck and shivering, clinging to him with every ounce of strength in his wiry body. "Sephiroth, I love you…"

"Cloud," he whispered, but he didn't know what to say, didn't know how to respond…only that, perhaps, he needed such a thing from this gentle and needy young boy.

Cloud sighed again, and wriggled a little, turning his head to rest his cheek against Sephiroth's chest. His eyes opened and Sephiroth saw them in the mirror, sultry and glowing around the wide dilation of his pupils. He knew in that instant that he should never have put Cloud in such a position because the boy's eyes landed on the mirror behind him and widened a little, fastening on the bright, fierce glow of that brand on the base of his spine.

"No," he whimpered, and arched hard in Sephiroth's embrace to tear away, wailing that keening, broken word once more, "_No_!"

The word was followed by a horrified cry so eloquent of loss and pain that Sephiroth was momentarily stunned by it. He slumped to the mattress over Cloud's body, withdrawing while the child hitched and finally began to weep.

It was not the weeping that Sephiroth had come to know—the soft and sorrowful sound of a kicked puppy. It was the sick, hopeless, and wracking sound of a soul shattered utterly…and it sickened him. With one glance Cloud had seen the simple truth—Sephiroth had used that mark to manipulate him.

As far as Cloud was concerned, none of what had just happened had been true.

"How could you!" Cloud cried, his voice thick and cracking with tears. "I _love_ you!"

Sephiroth flinched away from that accusation, away from that awful truth.

He should have comforted him, but what comfort was he, monster that he was? Cloud had given him everything and Sephiroth had taken it like it was his due. He'd taken and taken and drained Cloud down to nothing. Short of flat-out killing him where he lay, there was nothing more Sephiroth _could_ take.

The child had moved to huddle against the headboard, shuddering with the force of his deep sobs. He reached out towards Sephiroth but stopped himself. Closing his huge blue eyes in misery, he dropped his small, delicate hand and curled in on himself, knowing there was no comfort to be had here. He was alone in his pain, as he'd always been, and could only weep those anguished, broken tears.

It was Sephiroth who fled this time.

He drew away from that shivering, broken young man when he should've held him, should've soothed him. Instead, he slid off of the bed and dressed, burned by Cloud's tears, scalded by the depth of his pain. He dressed and fled, leaving the boy alone and hurting, wondering why Cloud's pain was like a different kind of burning brand upon his soul.


	49. Chapter 49

**A/N: I hope this chapter isn't too disappointing for you guys. I've been really dragging ass on finishing this, mostly because I can't seem to make the end jive right (yes, I write stories backwards, it's really weird but it usually works for me). Also, if you're a devoted Crisis Core player, I sincerely apologize for my blatant disregard of timelines and leave it at that--my story, my timeline :D Other than that, enjoy this short chapter. I had thought about breaking it into a second story, but at forty-eight chapters, why bother? If you're gonna be a bear, be a _grizzly_!But that's why this chapter reads more like an intro than an addition. Let me know what you guys think--make Eromenos: The End? It's up to you!  
**

* * *

It was funny how things changed.

He'd come from Nibelheim at fourteen, desperate for change, hopeful for a future in which he'd make friends, form bonds, maybe even fall in love—but, mostly, that he would become a SOLDIER like his idol Sephiroth.

At fifteen he was the great General's plaything, utterly devoted to and in love with a man who did not and could not care for him. As all things never meant to be, it had ended badly; he'd been used and cast out, branded like a herd animal and left to suffer the pain of it in lonely silence.

It was an instant in time that had felt endless to him then, where every second was an eternity that threatened to break him completely. He had foolishly thought at the time that he would never survive it, never get over it, for surely such a pain was the prelude to death?

But he found that time passed despite him—life went on, days opened and drew to a close, missions were doled out and meals were eaten. That he lived in a dull haze of numbness only made everything seem that much more surreal.

Dai was dead.

Zack was always gone on missions.

And Sephiroth…Sephiroth…

It was ancient history now, but the pain of it was still so fresh that he couldn't quite believe so much time had passed.

It seemed forever ago that he'd celebrated his fifteenth birthday with Dai, had laughed and gotten drunk, had lost his virginity in a whore's bed and had been snatched away by Sephiroth where he'd found new meaning for the word "unbelievable." So long ago when things had seemed bright and different, when he'd had hope that things could change for the better.

Instead, he'd been taken to bed by Sephiroth and many short, brutal months later it had all ended as suddenly and shockingly as it had begun.

He'd turned sixteen mere months after that last visit to Sephiroth's quarters, mere months after suffering through the most devastating thing he'd ever felt in his life…

And a whole year later he was still living in stunned silence.

But it wasn't really that hard to forget how much time had passed. Life as an MP didn't vary much—he got his promotions, made PFC, SPC, and finally Sergeant though there were enough people in his rank that it didn't mean much. When they could start their military career at fourteen or younger, the ranking system didn't really matter until the platoon sergeant level, and Cloud was pretty sure he'd never see that, because he had in his hand his new set of orders.

He wasn't ignorant of what was going on in Nibelheim—_his_ people were the ones who vanished whenever they accompanied SOLDIERs there. He knew that an assignment to his hometown was practically a death sentence.

And Cloud had just drawn it.

It was with a kind of dull, awed shock that he realized one thing: the only reason he would regret going was that he'd never seen Sephiroth again. After the man had abandoned him without a word or a backwards glance, he'd never once contacted Cloud or come within scenting distance of him. Finally, after over a year, it was well and truly just…_over_. No fanfare, no fireworks, no explanations—just over, done with, ended.

With resigned, customary silence, he began to pack for his first and last trip home.

* * *

***

* * *

Well, things had certainly not gone as planned.

Sephiroth frowned once more when he saw that Isaac had been assigned to look into Nibelheim. After all of this time President ShinRa _finally_ listened to him and decided to send one of their best.

But not their _absolute_ best.

He couldn't decide if he was exasperated or offended, but whatever the case may be he decided that he would, indeed, accompany Zack to that god-forsaken little backwash of a town and make sure than nothing evil befell him. It was something Angeal would've done, and the least Sephiroth could do in his memory.

The thought of Angeal paused him, shocking him suddenly with how long it had been. One of the last times he'd truly spoken with his friend had been when Angeal had come to collect Cloud's things, a parental frown of disappointment on his stern face. It hadn't been the best conversation, but at least he'd embraced his friend, trying to get him to forgive his lack of good judgment.

"Cloud," he murmured, his thoughts veering in a new direction, distracting him in more insistent ways. He'd not seen his little private in over a year, not since he'd turned tail and fled from him. It galled him that he'd never run from any enemy, never backed away from any situation no matter how hopeless it seemed or outnumbered he was, but in the face of one young boy's sobbing he had run as if the devil himself were chasing him.

And he'd run away from the best thing he'd ever really been able to call his own.

It had taken long, long months of reflection for him to reach this conclusion, having to work around his pride and arrogance. It embarrassed him that he'd allowed himself to become attached to Cloud and it upset him that he couldn't seem to control himself when the boy was around, and not just in a physical manner. Cloud touched him like no one ever had, taking nothing and wanting only to give. It was something that Sephiroth—raised to be a taker, knowing nothing of giving—could find no rationale for, and what he didn't understand he tended to either ignore or get rid of. That night in his room when Cloud had been so broken-hearted and crying, he had wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort him but he just…_hadn't_, he hadn't known where to start. It had been the hopeless, resigned way Cloud had curled in on himself that had broken Sephiroth's nerve and sent him running…

And time had passed, being both impartial and harsh in its own disinterested way. Sephiroth had thrown himself into his work, into the many and strange missions that ShinRa could concoct for him. If he had thought about Cloud at all it was only in a dazed, rather frightened way that made him shy away immediately. He didn't _want_ to think of Cloud, didn't _want_ to know that he had managed to both destroy and alienate the one person on this planet who had truly and deeply cared for him—and not because he was the mighty General, but simply because he was a human being. But as much as he hadn't wanted to think of Cloud, he couldn't seem to stop himself. By the time his long, uncomfortable months of mulling it over had coalesced into knowing that he had feelings for him, it was too late. Too much time had passed and the boy was far beyond his reach.

He'd kept tabs on him, made sure he was kept out of SOLDIER, made sure that Hojo didn't try to snatch him in his sleep. He was careful, however, to never actually _see_ his little private—he feared that it would only worsen the situation. For what it was worth, Cloud had gone on without him and seemed to be getting along.

He went to his bedroom, which seemed sterile and cold now, and retrieved the small globe that Genesis had given him. He thoughtfully turned it over in his gloved hands, feeling it warm to his touch, feeling the life within. He held it and considered reaching out to Cloud, drawing him back, forcing the boy to accept his apology and his attention.

The globe sparked at his thoughts, glowing the same vivid blue that Cloud's eyes did when the beast was roused.

"Cloud," he whispered, and thought of how much horror this small globe had wreaked in the youth's life, how he had found that symbol glowing in his flesh as a hobble, as proof that his love had no value.

The globe went dark, and it stayed dark while Sephiroth put it back in its bag and back in the nightstand.

If he was going to get Cloud back, he would do so by honest means at least.

He owed Cloud that much for everything else he'd done.


	50. Chapter 50

He was early, of course—having nothing to do left one with too much time, and Cloud had always been prompt. He waited for the SOLDIERs leading the mission to arrive and silently fumed over his two other MPs. He knew they were lagging because they were afraid, but fear wasn't going to change the mission, it wasn't going to create a miracle for them. It was best just to face it head-on and deal with it, hoping that they would be the lucky ones.

"What's wrong?" Zack asked, coming at him with his usual quick, purposeful movements.

The clipped, impatient tone of Zack's familiar voice immediately put Cloud at his most formally respectful. In an apologetic but crisp voice he informed the SOLDIER that the others hadn't yet arrived, though he offered no excuses.

"We're in a rush, so hurry up!" Zack told him, striding forward with his eyes on the floor, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

Cloud was a little surprised to be talked to so brusquely; it was as if Zack didn't even recognize him…

"Yes, sir!" he said, snapping to attention when answering the order.

Zack looked up and gasped, "Cloud!" With a wide smile he added, "Tossed together again, eh? It's been a long time! Glad to be working with you!"

"You, too!" Cloud said, smiling widely with relief. It _had _been a long time—he hadn't seen Zack in many long, lonely months. "I'm sorry about the others, sir—wait a moment and I'll get them."

"It's _Zack_!" the man called after him as Cloud bolted down the hall.

He ran with his rifle slung over his shoulder and his orders in his hand, checking along the way to see who was supposed to be with him. Apparently, it was supposed to be two Corporals and they really should've known better than to be late—having to be tracked down by their mission team-leader was just shameful.

"Hey, it's time! Come on, SOLDIER First Class Fair is already waiting!" Cloud called, spying the two sauntering down the hallway as if they hadn't a care in the world.

"Yeah, yeah, we want to _rush_ to our deaths," one of them said.

"Whatever, you're late," Cloud snapped, and waited for them to catch up. "Like we need to undermine SOLDIER confidence in the MPs, anyway."

One of them sighed and nudged the other, but at least they hurried up.

Cloud just frowned and stared at the floor, striding quickly back to where Zack was waiting—he didn't know either one of those Corporals personally, and he was glad about that, but he felt their censure keenly and it both hurt him and made him angry.

Of course, he was angry about a lot these days.

"About time!" Zack called, seeing them file in.

Cloud stopped before him and the others lined up at his left in an informal rank.

"I apologize for the delay, sir," Cloud told him. "Ready to go when you are."

"We're still waiting on someone," Zack said, and grinned at Cloud, asking, "Where's your helmet at?"

Cloud blushed and answered, "I lost it in Junon, sir. I put in a field loss on it but I've never been able to get reissue."

"I got a spare, Sergeant Strife," one of the Corporals volunteered, perhaps wanting to redeem himself.

"Yeah, go grab it," Zack told him. "Just put a rush on it, okay? He'll be here any second."

They stood there in silence while the other was away. Zack seemed distracted and possibly a little unhappy. Cloud thought of when he'd first met Zack and realized that the melancholy he'd seen begin that day had never really lifted from his friend. Zack was bouncy and distracting, but most of it only served to distract people from noticing his deep regret and sorrow.

Cloud was still silently trying to figure out how he could help his friend when the other Corporal came back and skittered into rank, hissing, "_He's coming_!"

He almost asked "who?" but when Cloud heard the light, steady tread that had long ago imprinted itself into his brain, he very nearly broke rank and ran. Only his military training kept him in his place, but it was almost impossible for him to hold still.

The moment Sephiroth came through the door Cloud snapped to attention along with the other two, his heart thudding painfully in his chest and his clenched fists trembling.

The General strode straight forward to stand before him, his head tipped to look down at the lowly persons before him, his eyes coolly unaffected and half-lidded.

For a long, long time Sephiroth just gazed at him while Cloud stared resolutely at the middle of his chest, refusing to look up, terrified that he just might break down and lose it if he so much as glanced up into those cyan eyes. His heart beat so loud it seemed to deafen him and he was sure that all of the blood had left his face. In a single instance he was shaky, furious, and terribly afraid. It was one thing when Sephiroth had wanted him, but now—_now_—to be part of the man's past, part of something that _used_ to be, something cast aside and no longer of use…it was simply unbearable.

"Uh…" Zack began, sensing the tension and trying to disperse it. "Where we going again? I never looked at my orders."

Sephiroth just continued to stare at Cloud for another long, tense moment that actually drew Zack's eyebrows down in a concerned frown and made the other two MPs blink against the urge to look.

_Finally_, Sephiroth turned to face Zack and simply answered, "Nibelheim."

* * *

***

* * *

It was actually a test of his vaulted composure to keep himself from looking in the direction of Sergeant Strife. No more Private Strife, no more little boy who was so malleable and easy to manipulate, no. In his place was a young man fulfilling that long-ago promise of stocky stature, of impressive musculature on a slender, fit frame. Time had finally fulfilled its end of the bargain—lengthening his beautiful face, drawing hollows beneath his high cheekbones, making his features more masculine while still keeping that doll-like fragility…

Sephiroth realized he'd been staring again and frowned. Cloud had not noticed, nor would he ever, not with the way he kept his head hanging and his eyes resolutely on the tips of his scuffed boots. The other two MPs were in the corner of the transport, studiously remaining out of his way. The entire group had been almost entirely silent on the helicopter from Midgar to Junon, and on the plane from Junon to North Corel. Only Zack had seemed his usual self, though Sephiroth was aware of his efforts to seem fine. The General was not blind to the young First's struggle with his own standards and what he'd been maneuvered into doing for the sake of duty and others. Sephiroth had been perfectly content to discuss the issue at Nibelheim with him and share what little information there was, but it had made for poor conversation and there was really nothing to plan until they saw what they were dealing with. Now they were in a transport to Nibelheim and silence reigned once more.

"Sephiroth?" Zack said, his voice low and uncertain.

The General looked at him, his head cocked a little, but Zack only smiled softly.

Sephiroth smiled in return, trying to recall how old Zack was now, but only able to think that the man was so young, so young…

"Angeal would be proud of you, Zack," he said, and gave the man's shoulder a firm squeeze.

"I can't believe he's been gone so long," Zack murmured, swaying a bit with the force of Sephiroth's hand.

"Nor can I," Sephiroth sighed, and it hurt to think of how much everything had changed. His eyes slid to where Cloud sat alone and aloof, closed into a bubble of solitude that his life had forced upon him. Time and circumstance had taken a child and beaten him into this silent, withdrawn young man before him. No apology or insistence could ever excuse what Sephiroth had willfully done to him. There was no spell he could cast which would make everything better. Once upon a time he had been so determined to keep a young, innocent boy from all manner of harm, to protect him. Instead, he had been instrumental in shattering Cloud's confidence, his dreams, the very things that gave the soul sustenance. What act of repentance would right that wrong? What could Sephiroth ever offer that would absolve him of the damage he had done?

Cloud was lost to him. After everything, after all of the tears, all of the denials and passionate moments it was simply too late to make it right. Cloud had retreated, he'd licked his wounds and healed as best he could and to disturb that would only add insult to injury, however much Sephiroth might wish otherwise.

The only thing he could really do was to hold himself to that long-ago desire. While they were investigating Nibelheim, he would do whatever it might take to keep Cloud safe from harm. It wasn't anything near to making amends, but at least it was a start.


	51. Chapter 51

Sorry for the long wait, but I'm posting again because I am fairly confident that I've got the story plotted for finishing. I'm hoping to make weekly updates and get it all done, at long last! I only hope that the way I write it doesn't detract from the reader's enjoyment, because getting the tone of the place that their in has been extremely difficult. Anyway, I hope you like it, and thank you all for sticking with me to see this one out.

* * *

Nibelheim was even more of a backwater town than Sephiroth had first imagined. The Aid Station run by ShinRa was the only building _not_ hundreds of years old. The little circular shape of the village only reinforced the feeling that Nibelheim did not like _the outside_—all of the houses faced inwards, their backs to the rest of the world…all except for a rather romantically Gothic mansion on the outskirts and a few outcast cottages scattered here and there.

The exhausted quartet exited the transport, the time change and the long travel taking their toll. The ShinRa issued transport required someone to be with it at all times, necessitating two people on a rotating basis. Cloud would dearly have loved to volunteer but the task rightly belonged to one of his Corporals and Sephiroth beat him to it anyway, saying, "One of you two stay with the driver and make sure the vehicle is kept prepped for departure at any time. Fair and you two, come with me."

Cloud frowned and put his borrowed helmet on, not about to walk into the town he hated with his failure stamped on him for everyone to see. He was worn out, grumpy, and not at all pleased to be back home. He saw people milling around at the Inn, their shocked faces pressed to the windows to see the infamous Sephiroth in their beloved little town. Cloud idly wondered if his mother was still around, and if his father had ever come home. He wondered what would happen if he went to go see her…would she even be glad to see him?

Sephiroth's smooth, cool voice interrupted Cloud's thoughts when the man said, "It's been awhile since you've been here in your hometown, hasn't it?"

Cloud stopped as the General stopped, all of them halting just at the entrance to the square proper. He didn't answer Sephiroth, he didn't even acknowledge that he had spoken.

"How does it feel?" the man asked, looking back over one shoulder at him, unperturbed by Cloud's silence even though Zack was getting riled up on the tension. "I don't have a hometown of my own…"

"What about your parents?" Zack asked, trying to lighten things.

Sephiroth turned all the way to address the young First Class, telling him, "My mother's name is Jenova. She died giving birth to me. And my father…"

He trailed off, uttering a self-deprecating laugh and touching his forehead at a low, insistent pain throbbing there, sighing, "What am I doing? Enough nonsense, let's go."

Without another word, he strode into the square with Cloud and the other MP at his heels.

Without meaning to be, Cloud was concerned by Sephiroth's odd response just now – it wasn't like the man to speak of anything personal in front of others, and to see the great General so distracted made him leery. He was already on edge being back here; adding Sephiroth's sudden unusual behavior on top of it and Cloud was feeling a biting, uncomfortable sense of oppressiveness.

He wasn't the only one – Zack was anything but his usual irrepressible self, and even Sephiroth had a queer sense of foreboding about this miserable little place. It felt uncannily familiar to him, and the moment he stepped into the square, he didn't feel quite alright. It was as if that soft thread of awareness had suddenly grown stronger, and it seemed he was aware of too much of everything everywhere. When he looked back at Cloud, he could swear he heard the young man's soft voice say, "_Don't, don't, or I'll break again and I can't allow it…"_

It made his cyan eyes narrow with concentration, and he felt the undercurrent of certainty grow stronger, that he wasn't like the others, that he was the best because he was not only better, but _superior_. He could taste destiny on his tongue but had no idea why such a pathetic excuse for a town would incite such feelings of startled triumph in him.

"Are you the SOLDIERs sent here to do the investigation?"

Sephiroth drew up short and glanced down, eyes narrowing when he found a young, inappropriately dressed girl gazing up at him in frank assessment. Just as he gathered himself to chastise her, Zack pushed his way to the front, saying, "Yeah. I'm Zack of SOLDIER, 1st Class."

Sephiroth surreptitiously watched Cloud, who kept nervously pulling at his helmet as if afraid it might slip and reveal his face. He realized that bringing the young man back to his hometown was not necessarily a happy homecoming…but then, he hadn't known that Cloud had been assigned to this mission. Out of nowhere, for no reason he could think of, he thought of Hojo and wondered if the Good Doctor had somehow arranged this. After all, whatever he'd done to Cloud, he'd done in Nibelheim, and having the young man go with Zack would assure Cloud being left alone at some point. It smacked of a setup and Sephiroth quietly considered it as the little girl took herself off to friendlier parts.

"If you've quite finished, Isaac?" he asked, acid coolness in his voice. He disliked being delayed, even though his thoughts had more than preoccupied him during Zack's brief conversation.

"Yeah," Zack said, and flushed a little. "Weird kid."

Sephiroth brushed him off and looked at the two MPs hanging behind them, addressing them lowly so that eager village ears wouldn't overhead, "We will begin our investigation of the mako reactor tomorrow morning. I suggest getting some rest this evening, I'll need you to maintain watch tomorrow. Consider this a free evening, but use it wisely."

He didn't wait for a response, he turned and strode into the Inn where the clerk wordlessly handed him a key. His thoughts were moiling with suspicion, with musing about Cloud and how Hojo was connected to him. Professor Hojo was sly, very sly indeed, and Sephiroth would not put it past him to have planned this whole thing out. That he himself was here to protect Cloud would only deter the man and make him realize that Cloud was not for hands such as his.

He was for Sephiroth's alone.

He took the risers two at a time and paused at the window of the landing, gazing out at trees, fields, and the mountainous terrain. Had he seen pictures of this? Why was it so familiar? Familiar enough to have caught his eye.

He heard Zack come bounding up the stairs and absently shifted so that the assured collision was reduced to a near one. The perky SOLDIER First Class bounced on his toes for a moment before shoving his way closer, asking curiously, "Whatcha looking at?"

"The view," Sephiroth murmured. "It's very familiar to me somehow. What took you so long?"

Zack cocked his head and flushed a little, but his grin was as wide as always, if not just a little worn around the edges.

"Just gave the MPs some instructions," he said.

Sephiroth gazed down at him, an unwelcome, errant thought bubbling up from a welling spring of suspicion. Perhaps it was just his fear that this was a trap by Hojo, perhaps it was just a jealousy he had no experience in, perhaps it was his newly building awareness, but for some reason he was questioning just how _close_ Zack was to Cloud.

'_He's just so pretty and sad_…'

"I'm sorry?" Sephiroth asked, confused. "What did you just say?"

"I didn't say anything," Zack said, worried, looking at him with those puppy-dog eyes.

'_He just needed someone to turn to, and I needed someone, too_…'

Sephiroth shook his head, touching his temple with his fingers.

"Isaac, humor me," he said, frowning. "But were you thinking of Cloud just now?"

"Yeah!" Zack crowed, delighted. "How did you know?"

Sephiroth's eyes swept closed as he tried to control the rising tide of his temper, so his words were clipped and short when he said, "Best get some sleep, Isaac. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

"Okay," Zack said, swinging back to concerned now. "Are you alright, Sephiroth?"

"Fine," the man lied, ready to throttle him if he so much as _thought_ about touching Cloud. "Go on."

Looking like a scolded puppy, Zack hurried off to his room, leaving Sephiroth standing there on the darkening landing as the sun fell behind the shadow of the mountain.

* * *

***

* * *

Cloud slowly made his way down the alleys towards his mother's cottage, thinking about Zack's melancholy and how different he seemed now than he was back when Cloud had first met him. He'd seemed reluctant to go after Sephiroth, lost in his own musings, but he'd still offered his usual friendly smile to Cloud and the others when he'd dismissed them.

Cloud had checked on the men at the transport, made sure they had sleeping and eating arrangements worked out, and then – with nothing better to do and too much restless energy to get rid of – he'd decided it was now or never.

He was going to visit his mother's cottage.

'_She doesn't even live here anymore_,' he scolded himself, trudging up the rocky trail to where the little house sat perched on the stone. '_The second you left he came back for her and they moved someplace warm and sunny…_'

The darkening sky made the way treacherous, but Cloud was used to this trail, and even after years away he still remembered every inch of it. Without him even having to think of it, he found every sure place to step and managed to make it to the cottage door without trouble.

Golden light glowed through the small front window, sending a square of illumination onto the scraggly shrubs and rock next to the front door.

Cloud swallowed hard and moved closer, nervous suddenly. He steeled himself for disappointment – a stranger would answer, would tell him she'd moved away, would tell him they didn't _know_ anything about her…

He forced back his fears and lifted his fist to knock on the door but stopped short when he saw someone through the window.

It was his mother, and his heart lurched painfully when he saw her familiar features, her thin face.

His hand dropped unnoticed to his side as he looked at her, watching her stir something over the fire. She was smiling a little, lost in her own thoughts, perfectly happy to be in her cozy home on a cool night, safe against the wolves and creatures that abounded in the mountainous terrain.

Who was _he_ to come ruin this for her? Who was he to come waltzing back into her life, a disturbance to her obvious peace?

He frowned and took a step backwards, nearly falling off of the small porch. It creaked loudly when he stumbled down it, and as he turned his back on the house to walk away, more light fell on the ground at his feet.

"_Cloud_?" his mother cried, and for a second he was sure she was angry with him, but the tears of joy he heard cracking her voice were unmistakable when she sobbed, "I've missed you _so much_!"

* * *

**A/N:** Some parts of the dialogue are straight from the game, credit where credit is due. I was trying to stay true to the run of events, here :D


	52. Chapter 52

**A/N:** Recently a very sweet and talented reader known as Superwitch did some amazing artwork for this story! It is so beautiful and perfect that I had to share it with everyone! Please, go have a look and let this fantastic artist know what you think!

(Remove spaces to make the link work, we all know how shitty is about links)

http://mindlessidiotxx . deviantart . com/art/SephirothXCloud-for-Eromenos-140025430

* * *

It was a tearful reunion, Cloud's mother was all joy and overflowing love, and Cloud was just happy to see her so happy to see _him_. All of his fears where she was concerned melted into a warm glow of acceptance – she wanted him around, she'd _missed_ him, she'd worried that he was alone and afraid and she'd wanted him to come home all of these long, frightening years…

They sat at the table talking over tea, and every once in awhile she would reach out and clasp his hand, her blue eyes bright with happy tears. She told him sadly that his father was dead, that his grandparents had passed away as well, that things had been lonely and bleak since he'd gone.

He told her of his hopes for a future, of what he'd dreamed of doing, of how he'd prayed that his father would return and make her the happy woman he remembered as a very small child. She blushed when he mentioned it, refused to meet his eyes as she spoke. She was ashamed at the way she'd harmed him, and blamed it on her ignorant youth – she'd had him too young, she'd known nothing of babies or children, and his father had only complicated things.

Cloud wanted to ask how, wanted to ask her to finally tell him the truth of why he'd been gone from her so long as a baby, but the moment was fragile and he cherished it too much to destroy it with ugly things. He could wait now. They would have all of the time in the world to talk of uncomfortable things. She loved him and he was welcome in her home, so nothing could come between them again…

"You look tired," she breathed, and smiled at him again, holding his hands so warmly in her own. "Take some rest, Cloud."

"I can't," he told her, smiling a little. "I'm a Sergeant now, mama. I have to check on my soldiers and make sure things are going well."

"A few hours, just," she said, and laughingly added, "And then you can go tend to your soldiers, my Sergeant son!"

He grinned and flushed, pleased that she was proud of him, and hesitantly said, "Yes, alright. I can nap for a few hours before I go. Are you sure you don't mind? All of these years apart, and I spend my homecoming asleep."

"Oh, it's fine!" she said, and waved her hand dismissively. "We can talk tomorrow after your assignment, and maybe you can take some leave days and come home to stay for awhile. Would you like that? I would love to have you home, Cloud."

Tears pricked his eyes but he held them back. Still, his voice trembled a little when he said, "Yes, mama, I would like that."

She leaned across the table and kissed his cheek before she stood, gesturing him back to his old bed.

"It's been awhile since I've slept in a proper bed, the ones in the barracks are barely better than cots," he told her, unlacing his boots and shedding his gear down to his pants and shirt before he stretched out in the dense, goose-down and straw mattress. It gave beneath him just as it always had, plush and soft beneath the thick layer of wool sheets covered by flannel. He heard his back pop and sighed with relief, feeling that sense of homecoming even more.

"You get some rest," she told him, gathering up some knitting from next to the fire. "You're getting older, Cloud. You're all grown up, now. I bet the girls never leave you alone, do they?"

"…not really," Cloud denied, settling a little deeper and sighing as he relaxed. It felt good to be home, to have his mother talking to him, to heal old wounds that had run deeper than he'd realized.

"You know, I worry about you, Cloud," she said, and paced a little. "Midgar is…well, it's a decadent place for a young man like you. I'm afraid something will come along and lead you astray."

Cloud frowned a little, thinking of Sephiroth and how badly that had gone, how much he'd learned from it.

"I think you need a girlfriend," his mother decided. "That would make me feel better. An older woman, one who could take care of you – "

"I'm not really interested in that, mama," Cloud told her. "I'm fine on my own."

She was quiet for a very long time before she said, "Being on your own can be terribly lonely, Cloud…take it from me."

"I know it can be," Cloud said, and rolled onto his side, closing his eyes, weary now. He'd just sleep for a bit, go back to check on his men, and then rest until daybreak. "I've been on my own since I left, just like you…"

As he was drifting off, he heard her softly, sadly whisper, "Please forgive me, Cloud, for all I've done to you."

* * *

***

* * *

Sephiroth couldn't rest.

It seemed there was a chorus of clamor in his restless mind – a ceaseless eddy of suppositions and suspicions, of leaps of strategy that made him fairly certain he was either losing his mind or developing startlingly precise analytical skills. He feared the first but believed the latter, thinking that somehow Nibelheim was encouraging a dormant – but somehow always expected – power on a scale that Hojo could only lust for.

Sephiroth had always known he was special, that he was different from even Genesis and Angeal. It was a knowledge that had formed the basis of his arrogance and set the stage for his frightening confidence. He had never once in battle feared that he would die, because he'd always just _known_ that nothing and no one could ever kill him. It wasn't that he thought himself invincible, he was just…_better_. Lessons that Angeal had struggled with, Sephiroth had easily overcome. Dismaying mathematical problems that Hojo had set him, he'd solved without a twitch. It was as if the answer was simply there for him, floating in his mind's eye without him even having to bother. Knots that Genesis would spend months plotting, Sephiroth would unravel in moments, finding the few linkage knots that would send the whole thing tumbling into a skein of yarn.

His life had been one success after the other, as if something powerful had guided his steps, and here he was in Nibelheim realizing in the quiet of his moonlit room that he was _not_ going insane, that he _was_ someone special.

That this world required a firmer hand and a better leader than the fat President ShinRa, and that he himself was the man who just might have the experience, guts, and determination to see it through.

It shocked him that he'd not thought of it before now, that it had taken time away in a shoddy little mountain backwater to realize his potential was being wasted. He'd won their wars, he'd fought their battles, he'd endured the tests and experiments without protest, and all the while, deep inside of himself, he'd known it was preparation for future greatness.

The military followed his leadership without question.

The public adored him to a fault.

How had he not seen it before?

He got up, rubbing at his temple and wishing the odd headache would leave him be so that he could think more on this. It was a big decision, it was something bordering on sedition, but he now understood a little better why Genesis had seen fit to defect – his old friend, too, had been made of better stuff than ShinRa was due, and even Angeal had left in the end.

Only Sephiroth had remained, and of the three of them, only Sephiroth would see success in what he was considering, because he'd never truly known failure in any way shape or form except for –

He spied the lone figure walking between two buildings in the quiet, dark square and knew at once where he had only ever tasted defeat – in the tearful despair of Cloud Strife.

Sephiroth moved to the window in just his light pajama pants, his hair trailing down his back, his eyes softening as he looked at that short, rather muscular young man moving through the dark street. So changed, his Cloud, now a man grown, no longer a child to be bent to his will. If he went through with this, would Cloud suffer for it somehow? Would Zack? Was he willing to sacrifice them to his ambition, if this plan assembling itself inside of his head came to pass? He had made no allowances for anyone else, but he thought suddenly of Angeal and Zack, of how close they had been, of how he'd wished he could comfort the young 1st as he deserved.

Was _this_ how he repaid Zack doing what he himself refused to? Was _this_ the reward for Zack taking his blade to Angeal and ending his life simply because Sephiroth would not? Was this how he protected Cloud as he'd sworn to do, by bringing down the company the young man had taken an oath to protect?

He felt a sudden surge of frustrated anger rise up in him, and it was so alien a response to what he was thinking of that it startled him and he jerked away from the window, shocked. His thoughts had not evoked such a reaction in _himself_, and for an eerie moment he felt divided, as if he were two instead of one, as if his body housed a darker version of himself that bid him shuck off any lingering emotion and be lost in power forever…

Cloud stopped on the road, shoulders slumped, head down. From where he'd come, Sephiroth had no idea, but the sight of him forlorn brought the man back to himself. He pushed that alien rage away and took a deep breath, murmuring, "He is more important to me than that. He is more important to me than _anything_."

It seemed he heard a shriek somewhere, a furious howl of disbelief, or perhaps it was just the mountain wolves, singing their own loneliness to the sky.


	53. Chapter 53

Cloud lingered outside of the Inn, that sense of foreboding gripping him again. He'd felt strangely uneasy saying goodbye to his mother when he'd left, and he couldn't help but feel as if he would never see her again. It was childish nonsense, he knew, but he couldn't shake the strange feelings that this town awoke in him. It seemed like ever since he'd returned, something was pressing at the back of his head, tickling through his mind. Not enough to make him worry, just enough that his head ached slightly and he felt out of sorts.

He lifted his hand to his temple and turned to go inside, nearly running full-force into none other than General Sephiroth.

"Sir," he said, saluting smartly, hiding in formality, in protocol.

"Sergeant Strife," Sephiroth said, and even in just pajama pants there was such an air of command about him that Cloud jumped a little at the lash-like quality of his voice. "Out rather late, are you not?"

"You said it was a free night, Sir," Cloud answered, standing at stiff attention, his hands clenched at his sides. "I used it accordingly."

"And where have you been?" Sephiroth purred, and the dangerous suspicion in his low voice confused Cloud. _Surely_ the man didn't think he would return to Nibelheim and not see his mother again?

Out of sheer, stubborn spite, he abruptly said, "Sir, you gave us time to do what we wished, and I used it. How I used it is none of your concern."

"And was Isaac with you, Cloud?" Sephiroth murmured, a faint, unhappy smile curving up the corners of his mouth.

Cloud's lips thinned with anger and he snapped, "General Sephiroth, Sir, my personal life has stopped being at the mercy of your curiosity since over a year ago. Please, Sir, with all due respect, do not ask me such questions again. The past should remain in our memories, and not taint what shaky working relationship we currently have – "

"I'll never be reduced to a _memory_ for _you_, Cloud Strife," Sephiroth said, his eyes fierce. "I branded you and held you, I took your body, your heart, your very _soul_. So remember who you are speaking to, my little _Eromenos_! Because if I so willed it, you would be back on your knees right where you belong,_ begging_ me to touch you!"

Cloud recoiled slightly as if Sephiroth had struck him, his brows drawing down in anger.

"Where I _belong_, Sir, is as far from you as possible!" he snapped, and made as if to move past him, appalled by his outrageous behavior and alarmed because this was not the man he knew, not even by the smallest margin.

Sephiroth caught his arm and yanked him close, murmuring suddenly, "You belong with _me_, Cloud – now and always."

"_Stop this_!" Cloud hissed, flustered and _afraid_. Yes, afraid! Even through his hurt and anger he was still terrified that Sephiroth might somehow find the crack in his defenses, might somehow bring him once more to tearful capitulation. He gazed up at the taller man with fierce, angry blue eyes and said, "_I am nothing to you, Sephiroth_!"

He pulled away, but only because the General's hand had suddenly grown lax on him, had loosened with shock. He turned to go inside, his heart pounding in mingled anger and shame, and nearly screamed with frustration when Sephiroth murmured, "You are everything to me, Cloud Strife."

Cloud fisted his hands over his eyes and moaned, "I can't do this again…I can't let you tell me lies and hope that one day they'll be true! I am nothing but a body, a thing without a heart, without any value – "

He felt Sephiroth's hand touch his back, deceiving in its gentleness. How the man lured him in, time and time again, and always with the smug arrogance of _knowing_ Cloud would give in.

"Cloud," Sephiroth breathed, and the silvery moonlight caressed his pearly skin, made his hair shine as if lit from within. He was so beautiful to Cloud when he turned to face him, denial and terror and longing fighting for position on his tense features.

"I warned you," he said, his voice cracking on a warbling sob. "I warned you that you would never have my love! I don't care how much you use that _thing_ Genesis gave you! I will never offer it again!"

He laughed bitterly, reminding himself that Sephiroth had no need of it. Indeed, the man had always been adamant that the last thing he wanted was access to Cloud's heart, was his _love_. What love could a pathetic, broken, almost-man offer a General who had anyone at his beck and call? What could Cloud ever possess that Sephiroth would ever desire?

The man just watched him, his jade eyes aglow, light gleaming on his naked chest. The air was cold this late in the evening, but Sephiroth showed no sign of discomfort. He simply stood there, looking at Cloud with something that might've been regret if he were anyone but the man he was.

"Just let it go," Cloud whispered, shaking his head. "If you ever felt even the smallest bit of regard for me, Sephiroth…Whatever games you wish to play, whatever ugly pleasure you take from my misery, just let it go."

The tall, fierce General gazed steadily at him and quietly said, "I cannot."

"What would you have me _do_?" Cloud asked, desperate and furious. "I have ceased to exist for you for the last _year_ and more! How _dare_ you imply that anything is any different! You left me when I needed you most! When I needed you to hold me, you _ran away_! Why are you doing this?"

One graceful hand lifted to touch his trembling chin, and the man whispered, "Because I must."

Shaking, Cloud whispered, "That isn't enough. Not anymore. I'm not a child, Sephiroth."

"Don't I know it," the General said, and there was a touch of sad amusement to his voice, a kind of soft wistfulness that unexpectedly moved Cloud. He would rather die than show it, but the idea that Sephiroth had regrets about what had happened and how made Cloud's hard armor crack just slightly. The hand touching his face dropped, brushing down his chest as it fell back to Sephiroth's side.

"Can't you just say you're sorry?" Cloud whispered, wondering why it was so hard for such a strong, glorious man to grasp the simplicities of such basic interaction.

Sephiroth started, his muscles tightening and a strange _look_ falling over his face.

"Is that all it would take, Cloud?" he murmured. "A show of contrition? Words to knit together your wounds?"

Cloud shook his head softly and said, "It would be a start. Even if you never felt anything for me, even if this _has_ been all some kind of cruel, sick entertainment for you, don't you think I deserve an apology for being the butt of such a joke? I didn't know any better, and you took advantage of that. I will admit that my own ignorance is at fault for most of it, but can't you take even a portion of the blame?"

Sephiroth's soft mouth twisted with bitter amusement and he said, "_Blame_? I see what I have wrought with you, Cloud. I see the damage begun by your mother and finished by my own hand. When I first saw you, I wanted nothing more than to protect you. I felt I would do anything to make sure that nothing interfered with your happiness…yet I myself have been the author of so many of your tragedies…"

Cloud stopped breathing altogether. He stood there in the shadow of the inn's stoop and stared at Sephiroth, unblinking, unmoving. He had expected many things from his ex-lover, from this man who was always more cruel than kind, but never had he expected _this_.

Sephiroth turned his head away, gazing over the empty square bathed in moonlight, the silver light lending charm to what was otherwise dull and ordinary. And that was how Cloud felt when the man looked at him – something dull and ordinary painted in hues of the divine.

"I stayed away to keep you safe, Cloud," he whispered, his voice low and distant. "You had been terribly harmed by me, and my pride was stronger than my judgment. I had hoped that in my absence you would heal and be happy, but I see that you are not whole. It doesn't surprise me."

Cloud blinked then, startled to find warmth in his eyes, too weary to be angered by it, too surprised by Sephiroth's admission to even think of it.

Sephiroth sighed, then, and said, "How can you be whole when you lack a part of yourself? And do not deny it, Cloud – I _am_ a part of you."

Cloud shivered but said nothing, waiting in suspended breathlessness for _something_, _anything_…

"I will not be without you," the man breathed, and his fine features were solemn, stoic, determined. "Whatever I must do to prove to you that I need you, I will do. Be it kneel at your feet or tear the world to pieces with the force of my feelings for you – I will do it. For you."

Cloud took a reflexive breath but it was short, gasping, thin. The jade eyes turned to his were glowing, languid, somehow _not_ as Cloud remembered them. As if Sephiroth had been hiding a part of himself and it had only now shown itself.

And still, the man gazed at him, silent and steady.

"I…I…"

In a heartbeat he was reduced to a stammering child, pared down to the terrified teen who had first felt the brush of passion at the same fingertips now slipping over his cheek. How had he changed so much in the intervening years and yet stayed so fundamentally the _same_? Drawn over and again to the same false promises, but always with the pointless hope that _this_ time they would be true.

Sephiroth said nothing more, those glowing jade eyes spoke volumes of sadness and regret…and loneliness, yes. Cloud knew it well enough to call it home; he recognized it in this arrogant, cold man who had always been such a force of destructive change in his life.

Like so often in the past, in so many places where Cloud later wished he had pulled away and fled, Sephiroth drew close to him and bent his noble head.

And Cloud, once again, did not pull away.


	54. Chapter 54 ish

It was effortless this time, as if the long wait had put them on even footing. Sephiroth's usual cold superiority had given way to a kind of vulnerable hunger – Cloud knew the man had missed him, had longed for him, now. He could taste it in the pressure of those velvety lips and feel it in the heat of the body pressed so tight to his. No condescension, no haughty amusement in the face of Cloud's own fierce need, just warm hands holding him tight for this first kiss between them in so very, very long.

"Come with me," Sephiroth whispered, moist lips brushing against Cloud's as he spoke. He pulled backwards to the door of the Inn and Cloud moved with him as if sleep-walking. He was helpless to resist this familiar stranger, and he knew it wasn't the brand at work, here. Sephiroth had changed over their estrangement. He'd discovered what life was like without Cloud in it, and he wanted him back. It was a realization that made Cloud at once overwhelmingly happy and strangely scared. It was easy to stay aloof from Sephiroth when he was angry, to take shelter in his strong emotions – but it was not easy to deny him when he was being, for once, so honest.

They moved up the stairs, two silent shadows in deeper darkness, treading lightly along the creaking floorboards to Sephiroth's own single room. The bed was humble but spacious enough for their needs, and the moon provided light enough to see by.

"I have waited for so long," Sephiroth breathed, his long-fingered hands plucking at buttons and loosening straps to slowly strip Cloud bare. Once more he would stand before this man who had hurt him, once more he would be defenseless in the face of the one who could harm him most…and once more he prayed with all of his heart that _this_ time Sephiroth would truly love him, would lay to rest those damning thoughts that Cloud had nothing to offer anyone, that he was unimportant, disposable, a waste of air and space.

The man undressed him with silent intensity, his jade eyes aglow in the darkness, his sharp features softened by moonlight. A long coil of his silver hair spilled over his shoulder and brushed against Cloud's chest as the man bent to unfasten his pants. The silky texture of it made him catch his breath, as did the light touch of those fingers against his tight belly.

"Do you have any idea what you are?" Sephiroth asked, cupping his face as Cloud's pants dropped around his bare feet. Those jade eyes searched him, as if some elusive mystery was etched in the smoothness of his face.

"Just a boy, Sir," Cloud said, and it hurt, still, after all of this time. "Just a boy…"

"No," Sephiroth purred, tipping his head up to the light, peering down at him. There was an odd curiosity in his gaze, like he was seeing Cloud for the first time. "No boy, never _just a boy_…"

"Please," Cloud said, his voice cracking a little when he realized he was setting himself up for painful rejection. "Don't say such things. Just be with me. Nibelheim is a death sentence for people like me – I just want to be with you and not think of it…"

Sephiroth cocked his head, his eyes softening and his mouth curving slightly.

"No harm will come to you here while I have breath in this body," he whispered, and the throbbing vibration of his deep voice made Cloud shiver, because it sounded so little like the man he knew so well. "Aren't you mine, Cloud? Weren't you given to me the day you were conceived?"

"Sir?" Cloud asked, confused, his alarm rapidly overriding his libido. "Sir, you aren't making any sense…"

After a long silence, Sephiroth said, "It doesn't matter, you're here now. And what wouldn't I do to keep you with me?"

Cloud flushed in mingled awe and delight at his words. Being in this place had affected them all, the feeling of oppression and the surety of being killed had made him realize how fragile life was and how dearly he loved it, even with all of its disappointments. Perhaps Sephiroth was feeling the same, and that would explain his strangeness this evening. Cloud had never seen him anything but utterly in control of the world around him – surely, he would not recognize doubt when it showed itself in the man he so loved.

He stretched up on his toes and kissed the man's soft, parted mouth, pushing against his bare chest, winding his muscular arms over Sephiroth's shoulders. He felt those strong hands slide up his back, molding to the contours of muscle, feeling the changes that time had wrought in him. Cloud could feel the heated press of the man's sex through the thin pajama pants he still wore, and pushed against it with his own bare body, wanting him closer.

They could do this, he knew. They could be together without one or the other of them being damaged beyond redemption. They could love, if only Sephiroth's pride and his own failings would not rear their ugly heads. It was so close that Cloud could touch it, and so he made a soft, demanding noise into the man's mouth that seemed to wake him once more.

Sephiroth's hot tongue slid between his lips, searching out his own, teasing and hungry. Without any effort at all the man lifted him and sank down onto the bed with him, lying atop Cloud's smaller body with his hair like a silver cloud around them. The feel of Sephiroth's body pressed to his made him ache with both longing and a keen, bitter nostalgia. How often had he felt such? How many times had he had that large body pressed to his? How many times had he been brought to such maddening heights of pleasure, only to be chastened in the end?

"Please," he whispered, tugging at the man's pants with his bare toes, with his fingers, trying to push them away. He felt urgency suddenly, a fierce hunger to have Sephiroth buried within him, wrapped in his arms, _his_. As if he could keep the inevitable at bay if he just held him tightly enough, if he was just _good_ enough this time. "Please…"

"Sh," the man soothed, shifting against him, working his pants down his lean body to fall from the foot of the bed. He returned to Cloud naked and hot, flushed with hunger, the full and firm curve of his erection laying between Cloud's muscular thighs and up onto his flat belly. It made him squirm beneath Sephiroth's body, wriggling to feel that silky flesh rub against his own. Those long-fingered hands – roughened from wielding a sword – whispered over his skin in a symphony of sensation, waking goosebumps and nerves, rousing Cloud from the death he'd slowly slipped into in all this time away. It terrified him that the only time he felt alive was when this man would acknowledge him. It terrified him to know that his life could be so easily snatched away, all dependent on the turn of Sephiroth's mood…

"Hush," the man breathed again, and then there were no more words, no more recriminations. Their mouths melded together in a heated kiss, tongues dancing, Cloud's smaller body rearing beneath Sephiroth's just to feel him, to be as close as skin would allow.

The man made a throaty sound above him, half a purr and half a groan, his heart thundering against Cloud's own. One hand slipped down beneath the curve of Cloud's slender back, and the other tugged Cloud's hand up to rest on his shoulder.

Warm, delicious lips slid from Cloud's mouth to find the firmness of his jaw, the long lines of his throat, the delicate shell of his ear. He shivered convulsively, bombarded by every new sensation, helplessly in the grip of his own desire. And no little part of him bade him let it go, fall into it, allow it to have its way and run its course, and maybe in the aftermath things would not sour as quickly as they always did.

His own hand moved beneath the heavy silk of Sephiroth's hair, letting it slither down his arm, tickling and fine. Muscle and warm skin shifted beneath his questing fingers, and he shifted his legs wide to better cradle the man with his body. Sephiroth's mouth found his chest, found a pert pink nipple, and Cloud bowed with the force of his bite, gasping a ragged, half-formed plea that fell to panting. His fingers tightened on the man's nape, pulling him closer, encouraging more – he could take it. Pain was the greater part of what they shared, after all, and Sephiroth had nurtured a part of him that Cloud himself could not face without shame and awe.

He savored the touches, the teeth, and the whisper of lips. He savored the heavy, muscular body pinning him to the bed and the soft puff of excited breath over his skin. He savored it all knowing that morning would come and everything would change once more, but for now he had Sephiroth, and he was _alive_.

He coiled his fingers in the man's hair and tugged, pulled, jerked sharply to get a response that came with a deep bite of sharp teeth against his side. He uttered a breathless laugh, wriggling, daring Sephiroth to do more, to truly harm him. Instead, that firm mouth found him unerringly and brought him screaming up off of the bed, heart pounding and body pulsing in a long, drawn-out, agonizing moment of conflicting sensation. Was it pleasure? Was it pain? He didn't care which, he only cared that he wanted more, that Sephiroth had trapped him entirely within his mouth and was working his aching flesh with tongue, teeth, and skillful lips.

Cloud gasped and sobbed, finding his hair again but not tugging, just weaving his fingers through its silky length and arching slowly against the press of the man's mouth. Pleasure flared through him with the same sharpness of pain and he welcomed it, welcomed the fact that he _was_ alive, that he _could_ still feel. Indeed, his body swelled with his potent hunger, awash in sensations that made him shudder with every slow pull of Sephiroth's mouth on his flesh.

And then the man pulled away, leaving him sweating and aching, unfulfilled. He said nothing, merely gazed down at Cloud with those glimmering, glowing eyes, braced on one arm above him, looming like a god in his small, confined world.

His hand snaked out and caressed him roughly, squeezing until Cloud yelped and surged against him, torn by the need to just _feel_ it, to let the promised climax make him a creature of nerves and pleasure. That hand squeezed again, and he heard the labored sound of Sephiroth's breathing, made erratic by his arousal.

"Please," Cloud breathed, reaching up to touch his cheek, to touch a face sculpted of the finest marble and capable of the same emotion. Sephiroth did not flinch from his touch, but something in his eyes changed, something shifted and moved. He looked confused for a moment before it subsided and the hungry glow returned.

He didn't answer Cloud's plea with words. Instead, he shifted the youth's muscular legs up high on his hips.

Cloud writhed when Sephiroth squeezed him again, gathering up the small puddle of arousal that had formed in the hollow of his belly. He bit his lip when he felt those same fingers seeking entrance, sliding against his skin, giving him the barest of slickness to ease the way. The first push of his wide head made Cloud go limp against the mattress, every bit of him focused on the feel of Sephiroth's body slowly and achingly easing into his own. It was an intrusion now, when before it had been so easy. The man had to work to get Cloud's body to accommodate him, sliding in and out in small, slight movements that made Cloud's breath stutter with his need. And finally, Sephiroth arched against him and he was settled to the hilt, pulsing and hot.

Cloud's eyes opened to find Sephiroth's own gazing down at him, still braced above him, still full of something unnamable. Cloud moaned and the man twitched. Cloud reached for him and he slid down against him, belly to belly, chest to chest, his hot mouth coming to rest on Cloud's own.

"Promise me," Cloud whispered against the silk of his lips, tongue battling to form the words, his own passion quickly forcing his thoughts into fracture. "Promise me you mean it…"

"I will never forsake you," Sephiroth purred, dipping his head to whisper it into Cloud's ear. "You are mine, Cloud. Those who harm you, harm _me_. Those who have betrayed you, betray _me_. What wouldn't I do for you?"

Cloud's heart hammered in his chest, beating out a staccato that overcame his better sense. He knew better than to trust Sephiroth, but what was love in the end if not simply the will to keep trusting where trust had been betrayed?

"Would you love me?" he whispered, gasping out a sob when Sephiroth began to move over him, within him. "_Would you love me_?"

Sephiroth kissed his lips and breathed into his mouth, "_Yes_."


	55. Chapter 55

There was a bounce in Cloud's step when he went to check on his subordinates the next morning, a cheerfulness that none of them had ever seen. He was relaxed and happy, despite the fact that their mission started today, despite the fact that Nibelheim was a death-sentence. None of that mattered to Cloud right now; what mattered was _last night_.

Last night he'd been reunited with his lover. Last night he'd been touched and held and made love to as if he was something precious and addictive. Last night he'd known the brand hadn't flared to life, he'd known that Sephiroth was not using anything in his power outside of his own formidable charms.

Last night Sephiroth had said he _loved_ him.

And Cloud was euphoric.

"SOLDIER First Class Fair will be heading up the mission this morning," Cloud said, handing out the breakfast he'd brought down from the Inn to the men left with the truck. "I have no idea when we'll be back, but if there is any problem at all, use the comm. to call me or him. Under no circumstances will you go directly to the General, understand?"

"Yes, Sergeant," was the dull reply, and Cloud was in too good of a mood to correct military courtesy.

He headed back to the Inn as he put his helmet on, still thinking about last night. He'd gotten up in the wee hours of the morning to return to the room he shared with his other Corporal, knowing that his absence all night would've been the subject of speculation. Sephiroth had been deeply asleep, uncharacteristically so. Usually, he woke if Cloud so much as twitched in his sleep, but last night – or early this morning, rather – he'd slept through Cloud sliding out of bed and dressing. It made Cloud wonder if he was quite alright, but he was still floating on an air of content relief. All of this time, all of the hurt, all of the ways they had damaged each other, and now it was all behind them for good…

"Hey, Cloud! How's your guy at the truck?"

"Good, eating breakfast with the driver," Cloud said, halting next to Zack before the Inn. "When do we leave?"

"As soon as the General makes it down," Zack said, reaching back to reseat the Buster Sword on his back. After a long silence, Zack asked, "Hey, Cloud, uh…this is awkward…but do you think the General is a little…_off_ lately?"

Cloud frowned, recalling the strangeness that had seemed to plague Sephiroth since their arrival.

"I guess," he said, feeling some of his happiness flee in the face of potential trouble. "Why? Has he said something?"

"No, he's just…not himself," Zack said, and added with a wide, easy grin, "But that's okay, this place doesn't seem to bring out the best in people."

He looked pointedly at a group across the common that was staring at them without any regard for manners.

"Don't mind them," Cloud said, blushing a little to see his people act so uncivilized. "They rarely see strangers, let alone famous SOLDIERs."

Zack flushed with pride and pleasure and said, "Yeah, I guess. So, are you ready for today? The guide is supposed to meet us at that creepy old mansion over at the end of town."

"The old ShinRa mansion?" Cloud clarified, as if there was another mansion in this little hick town. "Odd meeting site. Will you guys go in there?"

"If he says to," Zack said, dismissing it all into Sephiroth's capable hands. "It's been abandoned for years anyway; I doubt we'd find anything."

The other Corporal turned up, looking haggard and rumpled from sleep. Without giving Cloud time to berate him for not brushing his hair, he quickly put his helmet on and muttered, "Mornin', Sir. Sergeant Strife."

Neither of them returned the greeting – Zack wasn't paying any attention and Cloud was in too good of a mood to be irritated.

Sephiroth came out of the low Inn door, ducking to clear it, a vision of cool competence in black leather and silky silver hair. They all snapped to attention and he idly waved his hand to put them at ease. When his gaze slid over Cloud he hesitated, his brows drawing down in curiosity at the renewed happiness he saw there.

Without a word to them, he strode off towards the decrepit old mansion with Zack tagging at his side and the two ShinRa grunts at his heels.

* * *

Such a strange dream.

He hadn't recalled it until he'd seen Cloud this morning, but he'd dreamed of him last night. He'd dreamed quite vividly of the young man in his bed, in his arms, locked together in passion over the course of a sleepless night. He felt as if he _hadn't_ slept at all, even though he must've to have had such colorful dreams.

"I don't think we need a guide," Zack offered, striding merrily along on his right. Of _course_ Zack was on his right, he'd never be foolish enough to stand at Sephiroth's left side and potentially be in the way if Sephiroth needed to draw _Masamune_.

"The way to the reactor is very difficult and indirect," Sephiroth murmured, his thoughts still on Cloud and how happy he looked this morning. Perhaps he'd had good dreams, too… "Should we attempt to drive straight on we would lose time. A guide will ensure that we are able to spend the fullest amount of time investigating the issue."

"So…what do you think is going on?" Zack asked, taking the rebuffal of his comment with his usual careless ease.

"I haven't the faintest idea, Isaac," Sephiroth mildly replied. "I arrived with you, if you recall."

That got him Zack's sheepish grin, and he smiled tightly in return as they approached the mansion.

_'I wonder if he knows…'_

He heard it clear as a bell, that idle thought, and turned his head to look at Zack, who was squinting at something in the tree-line. Almost immediately on the heels of that, _'I hope he doesn't find out that I was with Cloud last night…'_

"Isaac," he said, his voice sharp and a low, ugly anger building in his belly. "Did you find any entertainment last night?"

"Uh, sure?" Zack said, bewildered. "I played cards with Corporal Grumpy back there and turned in early. Why?"

_He's lying. He was with Cloud and he doesn't want me to find out. He was with _Cloud_! No wonder Cloud looks so happy this morning; he's run straight into _Zack's_ comforting arms! I wasn't wrong yesterday when I heard that errant thought…_

He felt himself pale with the force of his anger and Zack's uneasy look only made it worse.

"Sephiroth?" the other man questioned, alarmed. "Are you okay?"

"Quite well, thank you," he snapped. "However, I am less than pleased to find out that the source of Cloud's sudden relief seems to be _you_, Isaac."

Zack stopped in his tracks, taken aback. Within a heartbeat he'd regained his equilibrium and bounced up next to Sephiroth, who had quickened his pace.

"Sir, what was that about?" he asked, crisply formal and worried. "You seem to think I've done something wrong where Cloud is concerned – "

"If you wish to carry on a tryst with a lower-ranking grunt and risk your rank over it, Isaac, that is entirely your business, but do so without anyone _finding out_," Sephiroth told him, irritated that he was still getting only that false look of hopeless confusion. "Do not, however, expect me to vouch for your good conduct under such circumstances when you involve Sergeant Strife in your personal issues."

Zack gazed at him a long, silent moment before his breath came out in an explosive whisper, "_What_? _Sir_! What are you _talking _about – "

"Don't think me a fool," Sephiroth hissed, unwilling to explain. How _could_ he? Allow Zack to know that he could hear other people's thoughts and potentially allow _ShinRa_ to find out through the grapevine? No. No, he had other worries now, now that his relationship with Cloud was well and truly over. This petty piece of drama that Isaac was working for his benefit only hardened his resolve and gave him something else to focus on besides the turmoil in his soul. ShinRa Company was in dire straights when a top-ranking SOLDIER would feel inclined to bold-faced _lie_ to his superior. It only underlined the moiling thoughts he'd had last night before falling into his restless sleep – that the world would do far better with a _new_ ruler. And now that he knew for certain that there could never be secrets from him, he knew that no other man would suffice in that capacity.

"Thank you," he coldly said, stopping dead still to say it right into Zack's shocked face. "I do believe you have saved me unnecessary effort where Cloud is concerned. Take my advice to heart, Isaac, and do not allow your tryst to become public knowledge."

He strode off and left Zack sputtering indignantly on the trail with Cloud and the other ShinRa grunt standing warily at a distance.

* * *

Cloud wasn't sure what had happened and he wasn't at liberty to be informal with Zack in front of the other ShinRa grunt, but his curiosity was burning him up. Zack was well and truly distressed and Sephiroth seemed angry, and that was all he knew.

They came into the mansion's courtyard where a familiar young lady was waiting, all of them so apprehensive and on edge that they hardly noticed her there.

It was Zack who broke the tense silence, saying with a shadow of his usual volume, "_Tifa_? You're the guide?"

She nodded, feeling important, looking lovely in her cowgirl outfit. Several of the villagers had gathered, curious about the goings on. Tifa bounded up between Sephiroth and Zack, striking a pose that a cameraman quickly snapped, much to Sephiroth's obvious consternation.

"I _am_ the best guide in the village," Tifa said, all business once the camera was gone. She smiled at Zack, the same confident, unstoppable force that Cloud remembered from his younger years.

"But it's dangerous, what we're doing!" Zack flared, his temper on edge from whatever had gone on between him and his superior. "Haven't you been paying attention to what's been happening here? People are _dying_ – "

"She'll be fine," Sephiroth said, his low voice hushing Zack quite effectively. With a calculated, almost angry look, he added, "If _you_ take care of her."

Oddly enough, Zack blushed, momentarily side-tracked. It was enough of a hesitation that Tifa led the way, overriding any protest on his part.

Uneasy, Cloud followed, wishing he could have a second to talk to Zack. He wanted to talk to Sephiroth, too, to get confirmation that he'd meant everything he'd said last night…but right now wasn't the time. Professional life came before private life, and that was something he'd always known where Sephiroth was concerned.

It took the better part of three hours to make their winding, meandering way up to the looming reactor. Tifa was a cheerful guide and well versed in the back trails that she led them on. Zack was less impressed by her competence than he was worried for her safety, and Sephiroth seemed to have forgotten she was there, despite her constant attempts to engage either of them in conversation.

They arrived at the reactor and Cloud felt something in his gut tighten. A look at the Corporal next to him proved that he wasn't the only one with misgivings. This was the place where people would die, where they'd vanish. This was the part of their mission that might comprise the last moments of their lives.

"But _I_ want to go inside!"

Tifa's sharp complaint drew Cloud out of his morbid thoughts, and he strode quickly towards her when he saw Zack poised to be irritated by her protests. Sephiroth, however, stepped smoothly between them and said with an air of condescension only he could manage, "This area is restricted to the public; you will _not_ be going inside."

Tifa's pretty face hardened into stubborn lines, but Sephiroth made a sharp gesture at Cloud and snapped, "Take care of her."

"Yes, Sir," Cloud said, taking hold of Tifa's muscled bicep and pulling her back away from the reactor. She was aggravated by it, but wisely didn't make a fuss as both SOLDIERs vanished into the massive reactor itself.

"You could have let me go," she hissed, rounding on him.

"I follow the General's orders, not yours," Cloud said, very tempted to remove his helmet and actually _talk _with her. But the old shame stopped him, and the old desire that he be seen as _somebody_ by the people of Nibelheim, not just a lowly Sergeant in the Military Police.

"_Still_, I – "

"What was that?" the Corporal questioned, drawing closer, alarmed.

Cloud and Tifa both froze, alert for danger.

"I swear, I heard – "

"Hush!" Cloud ordered. "Stay here with Tifa. I'll check the area."

The Corporal was only too happy to comply, and Tifa stayed close to him even while maintaining a fighting stance. They were both prepared for trouble, and Cloud resolutely headed into the surrounding cover to see if there were any animals about. He hoped against hope that it was wolves, startled from their usual area by unexpected human intrusion.

"_Eromenos_…"

He froze, rifle gripped in nerveless fingers, his breath coming in short, quick bursts.

Genesis was dead. Even though he knew better, it was the one thought he could cling to right now. He was dead; he wasn't here at the end of the earth haunting Cloud in the woods near a defunct reactor; that simply didn't make any sense.

But no one else on earth ever called him that.

A soft chuckle, then, and Genesis emerged from the shadows, haggard and ashy with his sickness, whatever it was that he had.

"Oh, look how the bud of youth has flowered, little _eromenos_," the man sighed, cocking his head to one side to gaze at Cloud, who hadn't the sense to call a warning back. What would he say? Be alert, there's a dead ex-SOLDIER? None of them could hope to stand against Genesis, even in his current state of illness.

One slender hand was restlessly rolling an apple, the purplish-red skin gleaming in the light. Cloud tried not to let the movement snare him, and forced himself to look up at Genesis's face instead.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Likewise," Genesis countered, smirking. "I've come for healing, Cloud. By what right do _you_ come?"

Cloud would not answer, but Genesis smiled and said, "_Ah_. Love, is it? How very dogged you are, _eromenos_, to still chase that which is unattainable. But you serve him as long as it suits him and no more."

"Why did you show yourself to me?" Cloud asked, his stalwart need to protect Sephiroth pushing his fear to the background.

Genesis shrugged.

"I wanted to tell you that I've left a gift," he said, smiling. "For your _friends_."

Cloud's eyes widened and he glanced back the direction he'd come, scared for Tifa and his soldier.

"It amuses me to see fear, Cloud," Genesis told him, still smiling. "I enjoy your helplessness. Oh, and one more thing – should Isaac follow us, you and your small party shall serve as a distraction."

Cloud ached with the need to run back to them, to protect Tifa, to keep Genesis _out_ and away from Sephiroth.

"I wish to have Sephiroth all to myself for a bit," Genesis said, drifting closer. "And that I can't do if you're standing in my way, dearest boy. So, I am afraid I must ensure that you cannot meddle in affairs that do not concern you."

Cloud looked back in time to see the hilt of Genesis's blade come at him – and helmet or no helmet, there was no withstanding the force of the blow. He felt the pain flare across him and the darkness rise on the heels of it, and was swallowed up into nothing as Genesis whispered, "Sleep, _eromenos_, and wake to the nightmare that is life…"


End file.
